Meet The Governess
by Glenn-Agape
Summary: When Alfred's wife had left him for another man, it tainted his name in the Nobleman's world as a Viscount. Over a few years, his son had grown wild due to his lax care. With the child motherless and with servants unable to help, Viscount Jones is persuaded into hiring a Governess to help aid the child in his growing years. But what happens when the new 'Governess' hired is...male?
1. Prologue

**Meet the Governess**

**~Prologue~**

It had begun when they first moved to England, and it wasn't the first time she had gone out during the day, and returned late in the evening. In fact, it had seemed so trifling in the beginning. At first, it had started off as the simple 'outing.' The lady would go out with her maids and servants, dressed regally as ever, her carriage whisking her away to a day of fun and glamour amongst the shops and trinkets available. The Viscount had always seen her to the door with his natural bright smile, ocean-like blue eyes gazing down at her with love and adoration. His arm would be holding gently onto hers as she laughed at whatever witty thing he said, and that laugh was what always made his world shift. It was like the jingle of bells in his ear, sweet and melodic.

At the door, his arm would stray upon her waist, eyes pushing love through their telepathic lovers bond and their son would poke his head from the drawing room, just in time to see his parents at the door. A grin, so alike the one his father always wore, was upon his lips as he darted out of the room to sprint towards them, colliding with his mother's dress skirts in a tight hug.

The Viscountess would always stumble backwards just a bit, relying on her husband's hand to always steady her, which was why his hand never left her side until their son arrived. Mirth appeared in both their eyes as they gazed down at him. There was a mop of blonde hair, almost identical to his fathers, save the little cowlick that was unique to only the Viscount. Underneath the beautiful pale yellow were long lashes that framed the most gorgeous pair of dark blue eyes. They copied hers almost to the detail, with flecks of brown and gold mixed in due to his father adding in. But they were deep and bottomless, eyes that captivated any looker. And that they did, as he clung to his mother's waist and stared up at his two parents, the smile of a young and youthful toddler melting their hearts.

"Come back soon, momma!" he would chirp and the woman would plant a soft kiss on his forehead, uttering soft things before waving her hands and stepping into the carriage.

Little did they know that soon enough, the once-mesmerizing dark blue irises held no more hold to the fair woman, and the captivating grin that had melted her heart almost every day had been replaced by the mental image of something far, far more tempting.

* * *

"Charlotte!" The blonde man thundered; anguish filling his bright blue eyes, turning them stormy with grief. He stared at the woman before him in his office. Charlotte was simply a mess and a disgraceful mess to begin with. Brown ringlets that usually held much splendor, styled upon her head, was now knotted and let loose, hanging all around her neck and shoulders. In fact, the edges of her red, burgundy dress had been slipping down her shoulders, revealing pale skin that was marked with red. The woman's face was flushed, her lips bruised, and her hands were clenched at her side as her dark blue eyes were downcast.

However, she was in no pain. The small sighs that left her mouth were ones of lust and yearn. The marks that dotted her body, underneath her dress where the Viscount could not see, were in fact love marks, ones that sent her body reeling in pleasure. Her eyes were nearly closed, imagining the man's mouth on her, making her feel special, far more special, in a way that womanhood could only give through love making.

"Charlotte, ANSWER ME!" Her husband had yelled at her, cravat hanging loosely and his blonde hair disheveled. What was this? She had come home close to dawn, leaving him in a state of terror as he pined away through the night. And now THIS? "Where were you?!" He demanded, his fist slamming onto his mahogany desk, his face livid. He wasn't stupid, and he knew exactly what had happened. But…Why?

"Alfred, please…" she said softly, finally finding her voice and looking up with determined blue eyes. Shock was clearly written on her husband's face. "You'll wake up Franklin." She murmured before turning her head away again, wringing her hands before her.

"To hell with that!" He hissed underneath his breath before glaring at her and stalking around his desk towards her. "What HAPPENED?" he cried and she saw him flinch, looking up quickly to speak coldly.

"Can you not see, my lord?" She replied back just as smartly, her eyes smoldering. No wonder they made quite the pair. They levelled with each other ridiculously well. "I have gone out, and slept with a man I have come to love."

"L-Love?!" Alfred had spluttered his hands wrung into the air. "And what we have, what we always had was not even equal to this… this love?!" He reasoned out, gesturing at her love-marked body.

However, the Viscountess was not moved nor did her expression falter. She gathered up her skirts as best as she could, her body still tired, yet yearning for more. It was something that Alfred couldn't give. Only him. Alfred was sweet, but the other gave pleasure. She could no longer deny it, she wanted the pleasure. "Our relationship was pure and gentle." She admitted, making her way to the door, leaving him shocked and motionless at her words. "However," she turned her head down to look bitter. "I will not stand to live with a man who cannot sustain my needs any more than this one can." She said coldly and she left the room, the door swinging open behind her.

That was the last the Viscount had ever seen of her, much less heard of her. The last piece of information he had received was from an innocent boy who had managed to glimpse a sight of her. She had apparently climbed into the carriage of a foreign visitor, only to never return in it. When he pressed for answers, the boy simply stuttered out that he was French.

* * *

Love. What a silly thing. What a useless, fleeting idea that only brought pain. Alfred could only bear so much pain as he held Franklin that night in his arms, sobbing into the boy's shoulder as the child blinked at him in confusion, hugging his father tightly around his neck. "Papa..?" he mumbled quietly, sleepily, as it was already the blinking of dawn. But the man could only clutch at him tighter, pathetic and hopeless, for how could he taint a four year old's mind of his own mother? The idea…well, even to him, it was unfathomable.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Hellloooo~ Well, this is my first attempt at an actual fic…! The things I've written before have mainly been drabbles and…well, very VERY short ones only due to the fact that they were just requests. 100 word fics..you know, those kind. But really, i swear to god the chapters will be longer. I love long chapters.

Anyways, I honestly do hope you all come to enjoy this fanfic. I hope that the prologue was enough to hook you on, wanting more! *winks* Regardless, I'll try my best to write it at the best of my abilities. Also, i wanted to write a story in this era (Elizabethan Era) because a fic i just recently read ("A Not-So-Classic Romance" got me hooked. READ THIS ONE it's fantastic...)

Moving on, about the story so far…Bah, what am I saying? It's only the prologue! But either way, as a little recap, yes. Alfred, Charlotte, and their dear son Franklin was indeed a very happy family. But when they moved to England, Charlotte caught herself up in a very, very bad affair, costing her her own marriage and happiness with her son and a husband who loved her very much. She did end up running away with that French man. (Are you all guessing it was Francis? Ahah…perhaps it was, perhaps it will be, who knows? *grins evilly* Or maybe it can literally just be some random French dude…I mean, the whole of France is the country of love. It could be anyone. I should stop talking now.)

Another thing…even though no plot was introduced yet, I will give you a VERY vague hint. In fact… it's so vague that I bet you none will get it right now. The plot is actually very alike to this one musical I simply adore. ( No of course I won't say what musical. Then you'll know the plot. ) But I have an inkling that once it has been established into the story, the ones who've watched said musical will know exactly. xD Ah well, I've talked enough.

Happy reading, see you soon!

Agape


	2. Chapter 1

**~Chapter 1: Man Does Not Respond Well Under Pressure~**

Most men in 1862 tried to rise early so that they could start on their daily duties around the house and in their offices before the afternoon had crept upon them, which was usually when they tried to find time to relax and spend time with their families. They would be woken either by themselves, or by their butlers, at the break of dawn, or at least when the birds had started to sing. Of course, this sleep pattern would already be ground into their daily routine. It would start at a young age, sleeping in until ten AM at the latest, then over time and over age, when responsibilities would pile up; they would start being risen at the times of eight. Then six, then occasionally five or four, depending on what needed to be done, and what hadn't been done the night previous. Unfinished mail, letters, and documents were always a hassle if they cost one extra time the next day.

The Viscount was a man such as these. Percy, his faithful and decently young butler at the mere age of thirty-seven, would come up into his room and quietly awaken the master, murmuring his schedule for the day, as well as telling him of any events that had happened whilst he slept – which was usually none. Alfred would then nod tiredly, and mumble that he understood, sliding off the bed. Then the man would start his days, glancing at the faint sunlight that had started to filter through the windows. Ah, days such as these… Days where the outside world looked so nice, serene and calm… Yes. These were the worst kind of days. It was the kind of day where little boys around the age of 6 enjoyed going out and having fun…getting into trouble…causing mischief. _Severe_ mischief.

It was 4 in the morning. The birds were BARELY starting to sing and the outside world was drenched in darkness, sunlight still resting behind the hills and valleys. Today was not a day that the infamous Viscount was busy. No, instead there were just a few office papers to sign, then a social event later that evening. The Dutch and Duchess of Whitefield were holding a ball due to their youngest daughter, Lily Whitefield, being introduced to society. Being a famous family due to their business that they own and run (which consisted mainly of trades and markets), it was expected that many other big names were to show as well at the ball.

Since this was a slow day, save for the ball, the Viscount had no intention of rising at such an early time and rushing about to do work. Instead, he had specifically requested of Percy to wake him up around ten, which was usually when Franklin rose. Then they could have a nice breakfast together that morning and Alfred would try his best to try and keep his son from getting into any more trouble…

But of course…That could never be the case.

At four in the morning, with the Viscount sleeping heavily in the sheets, a loud crash and boom was heard thundering through the house, resulting in the blonde man to jolting up straight in his bed. His eyes were blurred and his vision unfocused as he tried to rub away the sleep and focus on what was in front of him, it being his bedpost. His movements were lethargic and he felt tired, having stayed up later than usual the night before to get more work finished. But he heard it again, another crash, one louder than the previous one. That got him to stumble off of the bed and hastily make his way to the door, slipping on his shoes.

What, were there intruders in the house? A fire? Checking the clock on the wall, he grimaced, before sliding on his slippers and throwing the door open, stumbling outside with an expression of irritation. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to wake him up at an insane time such as four in the morning? And where the hell was Percy? Usually, if the man was not busy putting out a fire in some part of the house, the butler would leave all the guarding to the Viscount's actual security man, Charles. The burly man would then deal with whatever situation was happening as Percy would rush to his master's chambers, swiftly encouraging him out of bed so that he could bring him to safety.

But ah, this was not the case. He heard the sounds coming from the hall of armor, a place of display where a few sets of armor were set on display for the sake of their…Well, 'English' past. Judging by what was currently clanging and ringing, he assumed that a set of armor had been knocked into, falling down and crashing against the marble floor. But who on earth could've done it? His servants were either all asleep, and the ones on night duty were insanely careful with whatever they did in the dimly lit house. In fact, he highly doubted that anyone would even come to conclusion that touching the armor would be a good idea.

He could hear a few shouts of surprise, one that sounded strongly like Percy's voice and another one of Charles. However, his brows furrowed as he ran down the hallway, heading straight for the large, winding staircase that was in the middle of the house. None of their shouts were of terror, fear, and of battle. In fact, they were more like cries of distress and panic – concern for whatever had been done. Had one of his servants really been clumsy enough to walk straight into a set of metal armor?! The idea was preposterous… From the moment he and his family had moved to England, a good four years ago, most of the servants of the household were still the exact same, save for a few that had done something drastic. Percy was faithful and loyal, becoming quite the family friend, and many of his other workers came to agree with the Jones family quite well. He had come to recognize his friend's voices, and what they implied, even from across the house. This time, it was a shout he knew all too well. With a loud swear he ran even faster.

"YOUNG MASTER!" Came the distressed voice of the butler as he stared down in horror at the sight before him. The Viscount burst into the hall. Running over to them and coming to an abrupt stop when he tried to register the image of the incident before him. A look of utter irritation flashed across his face as he let out a sigh. It wasn't an intruder, nor was it a looter of some sort, out for the family jewels and whatnot. Instead, it was his six year old son, Franklin William Jones, was sitting amidst the mess of a pile of broken, scattered armor. A large breastplate was hanging off of the boy's shoulder and chest, too large for his small, lithe body, and a helmet was fastened on crudely, too big, and nearly covering his eyes underneath the shocking blonde locks of hair. In his hand, clenched tightly, was the mace that the armored knight had held, and judging by the dents and holes in the rest of the armor, the Viscount knew exactly what his son had done.

However, there was no remorse in his son's eyes, and there was no guilt that could be seen in those dark blue irises. Instead, there was defiance. Franklin was awake, ready to start his day, and he had done just that. The boy had merely dreamed of being a real knight as he lay in bed, and when he awoke in the middle of the night, he was struck by the remembrance of his family owning a various number of armor that he was sure could work well in his favor. So darting down into the armor hall at the break of dawn was what led him to this situation. A frowning butler stood to the side, hands clasped, ready for any order that his master would give him. And that said master, his ever-spoiling father, was standing in front of him, looking down with disappointed eyes.

"Franklin Jones." He said in an authoritative voice, looking down at the boy with weariness evident in his frown. "What on earth have you done?" he demanded in question, his sharp, American accent was prominent in his words.

"Papa…" The smaller blonde had replied. He did not speak hesitantly; however and instead trailed off only because he could see a dark look flash behind the light blue hues of his father's eyes. He knew he would be getting into trouble. How much trouble exactly, he had no clue.

Reaching down, he grabbed Franklin's hand and yanked him up, successfully pushing the armor off of him and turning to Percy. "Please clean this up." He said tiredly and the man promptly nodding. "And any one of them that are damaged, please take to the repair." He murmured in request and the tall man immediately set off to work, gathering pieces of metal in his arms.

Basically dragging Franklin off to his office, the Viscount wore an expression of pursed lips and a look of frustration as he made their way to his office. His child… Yes, Franklin was a very wild child. Ever since their mother had left them, two years before, his son had grown reckless and brash, jumping at every opportunity to make things harder for the Manor's staff and his father. He knew it was Charlotte's leave that was to be blamed, for the boy had dearly loved his mother. The moment it was broken to him that she had 'gone on a trip, and was not going to come back for a while,' he had seemed distressed over it, sending a miserable aura all around the house. It tied in with his father's, who seemed just as depressed. However, when he learned that his mother was not coming back _at all,_ then it was as if something hand snapped inside of his little heart, and he turned into the most uncontrollable boy ever.

Perhaps it was to be expected that young boys tend to find themselves in heaps of trouble. However, Franklin was the _son of a noble_ and though occasional mischief was acceptable, what the blonde boy did was close to disgraceful. The only problem was that Alfred was too lax of a disciplinary father. In fact, he could also blame that trait on Charlotte's absence as well. He lacked the ability to look into Franklin's dark blue eyes – the same eyes as hers, and yell. He had no confidence in looking at the face that held traits of his past, broken love, and to order it to do something. Even beating his son seemed horrendous, no matter how often the custom was to properly beat a son when absolutely necessary.

It was her face, her eyes, and her offspring. Although she sent him through a world of pain, he could do her son none.

"_What_ were you doing?" The Viscount had tiredly asked, dropping down onto his chair and staring at his son with eyes that were filled with disappointment and frustration. He was also highly irked. "Frankie," he started, using the nickname that he always preferred to use. "It is four in the morning, and we find you with broken armor all around?!" He said, sitting up to press his hands onto the wood, looking at the boy who sat on the chair before him, his feet hanging inches from the ground. Franklin's face held no emotion whatsoever, as was his way ever since his mother had left. "Explain yourself!" the Viscount had demanded and he waited with serious eyes, watching as Franklin expelled a long and drawn out sigh, crossing his arms and looking down glumly.

"I…I wanted to become a knight." He said as a grumble, turning his head to the side so that he could glare at the wall. Why did his dad have to yell at him? Usually he never got yelled at…maybe it was because it was really, really early… "I had a dream I was a knight, and I wanted to become one." He said as his only elaboration. His eyes looked up briefly, only to catch his father lean back with a thump onto his chair, slender fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose, his eyes clenched and his face scrunched up.

"Franklin…" he started, but was immediately cut off when the younger boy straightened up and looked at him with a frowning face and narrowed eyes.

"I wanted to become a knight, papa!" he stressed again, continuing when he saw his father begin to speak again. "I wanted to become a person who saves people! Strong knights save women from villains." He said hastily, hesitating a bit before blurting out. "You didn't save momma from that bad guy, so you're not a knight!" he cried out, his little fists clenching and almost immediately, there was dead silence. The nobleman looked down at his son with eyes that slowly started to harden. _'He's an idiot! He doesn't even know what he's saying! Just going off like that about his mother, this child…' _Alfred yelled in his head as he stared him down, successfully making Franklin feel a bit uncomfortable, sending him into a state of unease.

The boy's eyes were suddenly downcast as he felt the guilt wash over him at the actions he had just committed. He was aware of what he had said and done. Even at a young age, he had understood the fact that his mother, a once respected Viscountess, had fallen into sin and ran off with another man. Whatever his father was going to deal out, he knew he deserved it. However, he still felt the frustration course through his veins. He really just wanted to become a knight.

"I was neither knighted, nor dubbed." Alfred had ended up saying after a long bout of silence. "So there is no point in saying that I was or wasn't." He said with a sense of stiffness to his voice. It was obvious the Viscount was trying to control his voice, for the tone that was accompanying his words were threatening to break out into long rants on his wife's disappearance, a topic that he had pushed aside in his mind a mere two years ago. He didn't want to deal with that anytime now.

The only problem was that Charlotte's face was so clear in Franklin's that it was nearly impossible for Alfred to forget of her and her actions. He was reminded every day, every _moment,_ he looked at Franklin. It was her smiling face, or the boy scowling. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself that he was over it, and he had moved on, he knew that deep down, the pain had anchored itself deeply in his heart, and there was simply no way of releasing its hold. She was the love of his life, and reprimanding the results of their love was ridiculous.

"However, there was simply no reason that you were to be up and about at this hour of the morn." He had said, giving a little 'tch' as he stood up and crossed to his window, using a finger to push aside the curtains and look out. The sun was just barely starting to come up. He was to be awakened around now…But instead, here he was, awake with his son who should still be sleeping. Turning back to him, he clasped his hands around his back. "You are to return to your bedroom at once." He commanded, a firm look upon his face. "Go back to sleep. If you are unable to do that, call Percy and ask of him to bring you warm milk." He frowned, glancing at the clock that rested on his desk. "It is five, Franklin. You must go back to _bed_."He stressed, rubbing his temple. He wished he still got that last half hour of rest.

"Yes father." Franklin had replied automatically, knowing that it was best to abide by his father's word lest he gets in trouble once more, and breakfast was prohibited for the day as his punishment. He vaguely remembered a time where he had stolen a large number of pots and pans from the Manor's kitchen, using them as drums with ladles and wooden sticks as drumsticks. His breakfast was then taken away. However, the following hour found him releasing two of his father's prized horses from the stables far behind the house. In almost an instant, both his lunch and dinner were gone. He had starved that day, but he knew not to cross his father's path once more. How else was one to have fun if it was always around some sort of supervision?

Waiting for the taller blonde to give him permission to leave, Franklin's fingers were continuously messing with themselves in his lap, his gaze staring straight ahead at the desk that was set in the room. Covered with official documents and quills and all sorts of adult things, it bored Franklin to death. "Also, tonight I will be going to an event." His father had said, turning his gaze towards him and Franklin's eyes snapped up. Another event? What was his father doing, attending balls and parties here and there? It wasn't as if he were doing anything bad, though. He had never brought another woman home, and he was never drunk when he arrived in the carriage. His Viscount father was simply…social.

"Another ball, papa…?" He had asked quietly, staying soft in his voice as to not irk the man any more than he already did.

With a nod of his head, Alfred sat down again, resting his elbows on the desk. "Yes, this time it will be at the Whitefields'. You are to stay here, and please," he said, shooting a disapproved look at Franklin who simply looked back at him innocently. "Stay inside the house or at least in the backyard where Percy and the others can keep an eye on you." He requested, exasperated. "God forbid you send Percy into another hysterical attack when you ran off to the hide in the gardens." He said, looking disappointed once more.

Franklin merely snickered inwardly, remembering the event vividly. He wanted to play hide and seek with his maid, Jane, and as she counted to fifty, he ran around the house, trying to find a place desperately. There were nooks and crannies EVERYWHERE that would have sufficed as an amazing hiding spot, but the boy was simply not satisfied. Without any hesitation, he had sprinted out to the backyard and straight into the maze of rose bushes that lined the gardens on the inside and out that reached up to 6 feet high. Their family was a bit more famous because of their rose-maze garden, and Franklin believed that this would be the perfect spot. Jane would never look for him there.

And he was right. Wandering around for about an hour, the sun was already beginning to dim and he realized he was lost. His father was probably worrying for him, darn the overprotective adults, and it was probably because Jane had ratted him out about his escape to Percy, who had then told the news to Alfred. He figured the entire house was searched before they even bothered to look outside. However, when they did find him, it wasn't the prettiest scene and it mainly consisted of his father looking extremely frustrated, although Percy did most of the scolding.

"Alright…" the child had said, plans for what to do tonight already formulating in his mind. He would be bored – no doubt about it. There were no other children in this mansion and Jane, his maid, was always busy – or too scared to partake in any stunt he wished to pull. "Have a good time, papa." He said, smiling sweetly. It was one of innocence, one of charm, and Alfred knew immediately that he'd return home once more to another disaster. But unable to say anything of it, or scold him anymore, he sent the boy another frown of an expression and waved his hand dismissively.

"Off you go then." He said to him and the blonde jumped out of the upholstered chair, eager to get away to his rooms, or anywhere else he deemed as his play place. Alfred watched with amused eyes as his son sprinted out of the room, making sure not to slam the door on the way out. Turning towards the window once more, he rubbed his chin with his hand, thinking on tonight's ball. In all truth, he had actually been going to many of these events for a selfish reason. He had been trying to find a wife. But not just any wife. A wife, as well as a mother. The emotion of affection and love had long since evaded him. He didn't care whether or not he came to even remotely fancy the woman he danced with – as long as she could stand by his side and fix his name; repainting the already scratched title of the Viscount. Also, she must be a mother to Franklin, for Alfred had concluded that only a person of strong will could ever truly control his son. Yes, Alfred was in desperate search of a flower to place in his house, only for its decoration and charming scent. Whether it be a beautiful, red rose, or a green swamp weed, Viscount Jones had learned to care less.

* * *

Viscount Jones and his family were peculiar. All-American and loudly cheerful, they had attracted the attention of most of England's nobles when they moved from the new word. And not only had they moved here with wide eyes and great expectations, but the blonde man with distracting blue eyes, his wife with gorgeous brown hair, and their son who was a charming devil had swept themselves into the world of the upperclassmen as if they belonged there. And they did, to some extent. Not every English family accepted their difference at first. They went to balls and had perfect manners and actions. They smiled when needed, socialized when appropriate, and they were truly a star family. But that was the thing – Viscount Jones and his _American_ family was just like the British. And it scared them to no end. The most unnerving fact about them was their lack of accent. Viscount Jones' laugh was loud and boisterous, almost to the point of being obnoxious. He was known to laugh at almost anything, and whenever he attended social events, his laughter could be heard from across the hall. Charlotte was just the same, but less loud. She was polite with the other woman, and joined in on their conversations. Her accent seemed opposite and different compared to the Briton's softer tongues, but she spoke it with such authority that no one bothered to question it. Even with Franklin, his childish tone and bubbly giggles put anyone in high spirits, and watching his growth through his parents' words always astounded many. Indeed, the Jones were strange.

But eventually, Britain's noble society had begun to accept them for who they were, and what they did. The Viscount owned a popular clothing store company that branched out to all of America, and they had moved to England for the sole reason of reaching out past Europe and beyond. Their family was well-supported, and each one of the members was finely educated. There was simply nothing wrong with them. Their appearances at social events soon became something to be anxious for, due to their sudden boom of popularity. Alfred was flagged down by many of his gentleman friends, introducing them to woman who obviously fell in love at first sight. Charlotte was asked many dances, and refusing them all, she grew to hold the reputation of rude and untrained. But that idea had been immediately oppressed when Alfred pulled her onto the dance floor, and she gave no restraint. People watched with wide eyes as the pair waltzed expertly across the hall's floor, the couple staring at each other with what one would call true admiration. Charlotte and Alfred were fantastic dancers – and they reserved the talent only to each other.

Even Franklin had become quite a star child. He was a mere babe and unable to do much of anything, but just his appearance was what caught the eyes of many woman who had given birth to girls. His dark eyes and light hair made people swoon, and being able to hold the little infant was what people considered to be a blessing. His parents addressed him by his nickname, Frankie, but many were horrified at butchering such a lovely name – resorting in the rest of them calling him Franklin. But Frankie was a dear, and even his babyish smile made hearts flutter.

Their family was the exact image of perfection. Their American charm just made them all the more popular. They had become quite the idols in the eyes of the Britons and always presented surprise after surprise. Regardless of all their fame, they had stayed extremely humble. They had never bragged of their wealth, their property, or their child (For the others did it for them.) Alfred had never once purposely spoken a put-down for the sake of insulting, and his cold, harsh words only ever appeared when he was in the middle of important business-making. Charlotte was the noble's favored queen, for like her husband, pure sweetness and enthusiastic words poured from her cherry lips. She gave advice to her friends when it was needed and reprimanded lightly when absolutely necessary. When the name 'Jones' was uttered, people turned to look.

But of course, a family can only be so perfect with a certain amount of flaws, holding it together. People had expected Alfred to snap sooner or later, him being the male figure in the household. Maybe he would shout? Perhaps he'd get drunk to the point where he forced Charlotte into something that was not consensual or hit her (Although the man had never gotten drunk in their memories.) England's nobles were waiting – waiting for a flaw.

It might as well have shocked the world when people learned that it was Charlotte who had snapped instead of Alfred. Sweet, beautiful Charlotte was sleeping with another man underneath all their noses. In fact, she had even hid it from Alfred for more than a year. During the next event, Alfred had come alone, much to everyone's shock. The pair was inseparable. But as he made the announcement, he shared the news with a calm expression. His wife had found love in another, and had left him and Franklin. The affair had gone on for a little more than a year, but regardless, the Viscount would stay in England, due to the fact that it was rumored that Charlotte had left the country. Alfred felt no point in speaking harshly about her, yet there was also no reason in searching for sympathy. He told them the simple truth, and that was that.

All the nobles were in shock, and it was then that the Jones' reputation started to crumble, yet uphold in a new direction. Their family's title of being 'perfect' was then slashed away to where a new word arose. 'Broken.' Charlotte's name was no longer accompanied by the descriptions 'beautiful, elegant, and simply wonderful,' and instead was heard with words such as 'whore, disgraceful, an absolute sin.'

Alfred received many sympathies from many people. "I'm so sorry for your loss…" or "I would feel so dreadfully ashamed…" However…they were all mainly woman, with their single daughters hanging in their arms. The Viscount merely nodded and warily turned away, to be greeted by many more. Once Franklin's change had begun being known, he too was the talk of many. "That wretched boy! Running through my gardens, trampling the work of my gardeners! Oh, how awful!" And others, such as: "I feel so sorry for the Viscount living in a family such as that…he deserves none of it. Having a wild son and a whore for a wife…my, my…It's a shame indeed."

Viscount Jones was once more, popular among them all. However, he didn't cease his attendance at the balls, and after a good year of social events and conventions, and meeting, the rumors had died down to a soft roar, only being spoken when his name arose. He stayed the laughing, happy man that didn't crumple under the eyes of England despite his shaken family. It amazed many, how he had the courage and determination to stay so strong in his enthusiastic and carefree personality.

But the question was, if and when would Viscount Alfred F. Jones, loved by many, finally crack?

* * *

Whitefield Manor was just as grand as any other. It was a beautiful hall with shimmering chandeliers and mirrored walls that surrounded the entire hall. What was most famous about it were their lights. The idea seemed simply preposterous to unknowing people at first, but when one would step into the hall, understanding would immediately flood in.

The chandeliers were nothing – merely icing to the cake. It was the series of lamps and mirrors that made the sunlight bounce around the mansion and their ability to send the rays moving. Gas lamps were in the corners of the hall, shaped in grand designs that reached up to the ceiling. It was said that they represented elements. Fire, wind, earth, and water. They were turned on for every event and ball that took place in the hall, sending shadows of rocks, fire, water, and wind in patterns that scattered along the floor. In the dim sky, it gave the music a wonderful vibe, and it never ceased to amaze the event-goers. However, the personal favorite of every one who was ever invited was only shown during breezy summer evenings. The windows were propped open all the way for the fact that dotting the tall ceiling of the hall, there were gas lamps that hung – suspended by wires. They had many shapes cut in them, and were molded and formed into different shapes as well. Specially designed, the wind would then push against the glass, making the lamps twirl on their strings, either slowly or fast, depending on the weather. The lamplight inside it would then cause flickering glows to dance across the room and all around, never shining on just one person. Fast paced songs and strong winds were always the favored pair, while slow dances and a soft breeze made people sit back and admire. Due to these amazing features, halls at Whitefield Manor were always something people were excited for.

The Viscount himself even found himself growing excited. As evening grew close and the afternoon light started to dim, the blonde man found himself looking through his ball-outfits with a certain feel of anticipation. He could feel it in his veins – perhaps tonight would be the night. Yes, he would not deny the fact that he had felt this way before during other nights, but he knew that the Whitefield Manor was a special place, where special things could happen. Also, after taking a quick walk around his central garden after coffee, he was certain that there would be just enough wind to send an enjoyable moving light-glow around the dance floor. Subconsciously, he gripped his hand while he analyzed his coats. _'Tonight will be the NIGHT!'_

When evening arrived and his clock chimed 7 in the evening, the Viscount looked at himself in his large mirror that was up in the corner of his equally-as-large room. He wore a dark navy tailcoat that contrasted his light blue eyes to the extreme. The tailcoats themselves were rimmed with a gold stitching that ran up around to his lapels, neatly folded at his neck. His trousers matched the color, and his black boots that were fit snugly onto his feet were rimmed at the top with gold as well. His vest was a deep gray, almost black, depending on how much light was used to see it, and the buttons were shined and untouched. The starched white cravat was ruffled to perfection at his throat. His hair was in its usual stance. Many hairdressers had attempted numerous times to fix it. Slicking it back was alright, but it was agreed by many that his boyish, cheerful charm was immediately replaced by a serious look. It tended to scare away potential women. After a while, the Viscount had figured that it was perfectly fine the way it was. Untouched and parted a bit to the left, with his ever-famous cowlick curling up. He had gotten questions about it, and he merely countered with things that left the others speechless. "If one piece of my hair chooses to stand up, as you stand there commenting on it, then why not un-oil your hair for once, and let me comment on that?"

Yes, the Viscount was ready for the ball.

* * *

"Viscount Jones, it's a pleasure to be greeted with your appearance this fine evening!" The Dutch of Whitefield had said, walking up to him and greeting him with a large, warm smile and a firm handshake. The man was around his height, but a bit larger around the belly. With slightly graying hair and a jolly, red face, many people looked at him as some sort of father figure. Alfred received the handshake with a charming one of his own – he and Whitefield were good friends, as well as business partners.

"Ah, Dutch, it seems that the times have been treating you well." Alfred said, chuckling when the large man simply laughed, waving his hand dismissively. "You seem to look younger since I saw you last." The Viscount joked, causing the man to laugh boisterously once more, clapping his shoulder affectionately.

He sighed, shaking his head with eyes full of amusement. "Ah, Alfred, you never fail to amuse me with that tongue of yours." He said mirthfully, and Alfred took the opportunity to look horrified.

"My tongue, good sir?!" He said, pretending to be aghast which was evident in his smiling eyes. "I assure you, Dutch, that this tongue shall never lay upon your face, or mouth, unless it the ways of words." He said sincerely, patting the arm that was pressed on his shoulder.

A look of disbelief passed briefly through the Dutch's face before he chuckled lowly, patting the shoulder once more before pulling away. "As well as that horrific mind of yours – filled with obscenities." He added with a grin. "Count yourself lucky we are close enough that I can hear you speak of those things without turning my shoulder." The Dutch mused thoughtfully. "Never forget that that topic is unwelcome here." He murmured and Alfred merely grinned, shrugging.

"Then sir, I believe I am quite lucky." He agreed, watching the man before him snicker. "And do not fear, for I believe that today I will find my lady." He said sincerely, smiling when the Dutch's eyebrows shot up.

Dutch Elliot of Whitefield was a man who knew Alfred since he and his family had moved to England. He was one of the shoulders Alfred came to vent to when Charlotte had left, and he knew the entire story – much more than what the others new. He had always been aware of Alfred's quest to find a new mother for Franklin and was also aware of how many times the younger man had failed. This was a new idea. "Do you now…?" he said in genuine surprise, clasping his hands behind his back and looking at him curiously. Tonight was no different than any other ball – tonight was simply for fun. What did Alfred mean? "Pray, tell what gives you the sudden burst of confidence?" He added.

Alfred was quick to respond, looking excited. "I'm not quite sure myself, sir. But I assure you, tonight will be the night." He said determinedly and smiled faintly when he caught the man's doubtful look. "I just…I believe that it will be. All throughout today, I just felt this little feeling at the bottom of my head…" he said, looking off to the side thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll ask her to dance? Maybe her mother will introduce her to me?" he said, before turning back to face the man who was regarding him with a soft expression. "Either way, I'll find her tonight. And soon enough, I'll give Franklin the mother he deserves." He said, clenching his fist at his side.

"I believe you, Alfred." The Dutch replied with a warm smile, reaching out to clasp his arm reassuringly. "I wish you the best of luck, then, as you find her." He said, before chuckling. "And once you do, please, let me know." He said and smiled when Alfred nodded in agreement.

"I believe I see Knight Carriedo over there, Dutch, so I shall take my leave." The blonde had said and with a grin, he headed towards his other close friend.

The Dutch himself had nodded politely at the conversation's close, giving him a bob of the head before turning to greet the new guests of his party that were climbing out of their carriage in a strict, black tailcoat. "Ah, Governess Kirkland!" he greeted happily. "What a pleasure to see you…"

* * *

Arthur Kirkland was a Governess. It was arguable that the correct term was to be 'Governor' but after his own opinion was voiced, people were shocked to hear that he preferred the title Governess. When asked why, he merely answered that he simply thought it sounded better. And if you asked him, he would've told you that he was the best bloody governess that ever stepped foot in England.

Jokingly, of course.

However, there he was, standing in the entrance of the Whitefield Manor, taking in the extravagance of it all, and still trying to register that he had been invited to a ball such as this. He turned his head, looking around and his eyes stayed slightly wide as he took in the sight of beautiful gowns and handsome suits. Big names were everywhere, and everywhere there were people. Marquis Harrington and his wife were in conversation with the Duke of Wetherford, and Lord Simon of Chesters was leading a woman – who Arthur recognized to be the Lady Eleanor of Piercingfield – to the table full of food. The list went on and on and the native Briton started to feel very…under-named. Nobody knew him, besides the Dutch, yet he knew everyone. It was a very strange feeling.

The Dutch had greeted him wonderfully, being extremely polite and eager for him to immerse himself in the ball and its socialites. The greeting had been short and to the point, a simple Hi and Hello, as well as some pleasantries. Next thing he knew, he was being pushed inside the mansion, into an entirely new world.

He pursed his lips as he made his way to the food table, absently picking up a piece of cheese that was pierced by a toothpick. He ate it, noting its nice taste in his mouth as another man turned to face him, looking him up and down curiously. "Excuse me." he said, causing Arthur to blink, turning his head to look at the man. He was tall and extremely regal looking, nothing like Arthur. He had a pile of obnoxious, shocking blonde hair, and he was dressed in what seemed to be some kind of fancy trench coat. But the trench coat was styled so nicely that the black complimented with the red rims wonderfully well. In fact, he looked too royal that the governess could do nothing but gawk.

"Excuse me." He man said again, this time putting his full attention on the shorter blonde. Arthur quickly swallowed, placing the toothpick down.

"Y-Yes? Ah, sorry, my mouth was full…" He mumbled a bit as he looked up at him. "Can I help you?" He asked and mentally swore, for he believed he sounded rude.

The man merely smirked. "Ah, no. I was simply going to ask what might your name be?" He said with a bright smile. "I have not seen you before at any of the events that the Dutch has held, so I'm assuming you might be a new name that I can acquire." He said and Arthur nearly doubled over at how nobleman-like he sounded. Of course, he was used to it all the time, since being a Governess, you were only ever hired by nobles. However, he assumed that at balls, they loosened up a bit….Apparently not.

"Yes, that's right, I have just recently made acquaintances with the Dutch." He said, nodding. "This is my first social event, actually." He stuck out a hand for a handshake. "I am Governess Arthur Kirkland, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He said with a polite smile. He watched with carefully guarded eyes as he watched the man's eyes widen and his eyebrows shot up. It was the usual.

"Governess?" The man repeated, before furrowing his brows and staring at him a bit more curiously. "Do you mean governor?" He said a bit hesitantly, and tilted his head in slight confusion as Arthur shook his head, no. "You are a Governess…" He said in awe, nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes, I am…" Arthur had replied uneasily, waiting for the worst. Usually, barrages of questions were hurled at his face. Why was he a Governess? Why was he invited to this ball? Why didn't he choose the pre-fix Governor? Was he a homosexual? The last one usually wasn't ever said, but it didn't take a keen eye to see that Arthur was. And that was what usually kept people at bay. However, this man pressed on interestedly.

"That is certainly most intriguing." He said with a smile, shaking his hand enthusiastically. Arthur merely blinked in confusion, though he was appreciative of the fact that the man said nothing negatively. "I am Matthias Kohler, King of Denmark." He greeted. "And it truly is wonderful to make your acquaintance, Governess Kirkland." He said politely.

Arthur nearly threw up the cheese he had eaten. King? KING? He had just told that he was a 'female' worker to a KING? And of another country too! It was astounding, that Arthur's first handshake at his first ball was with a king. And what was more amazing was that the man didn't care as much as the others. Perhaps it came with being a ruler. "Y-Your majesty!" He said, letting out a small gasp, bowing quickly, before straightening back up. "Yes, thank you." He said, trying not to sound meek. But the man merely chuckled and nodded, turning to take a piece of meat, pierced on another toothpick,

"I am curious, Governess, to how you made friends with the Dutch?" he mused, and Arthur was immediately pulled away from his fascination, quickly recalling how he had met the man in the first place. Right. The Pinkertons.

_"Martin! Martin, for the sake of the Queen, will you PUT THAT BLOODY FROG DOWN!" Arthur had yelled as he chased a little brunette boy around the large backyard of a semi-noble family. _

_ The Pinkertons, Sir James and Lady Elizabeth, had a small boy named Martin who was both a beauty and a terror. He had a ridiculous attraction towards small insects and creatures and it wasn't the first time that Martin was found by the Governess with a frog (or a chipmunk, or a rat, or worms) in his hands. The family was one that was gentle and kind, hiring Arthur only out of interest that he was male. Sir James was always off working, and Lady Elizabeth was actually used as a model for many women's' dresses, causing their household to be deprived of a parent to nurture Martin. In search of a Governess, they had inquired at the agency, and were thoroughly shocked when introduced to Arthur. Extremely intrigued, they hired him and set him to work, watching on their off days. However, in just a few short days, the Governess had proved his excellence with children, already causing Martin to grow fond of him as a prank-victim. He had then turned into a family friend._

_ "I'm going to throw it into your bed, Governess!" the little boy had cried, sprinting for the door of the house. Arthur nearly gasped. Not again!_

_ He ran even faster, reaching out to snag his arm. "Not again, you little piece of-"_

_ "MUMMY!"_

_ "SUGAR-TARTS! WILL YOU JUST STOP?!" Arthur had screamed and as requested, the little boy had halted so suddenly that the Governess ran straight into the child, successfully knocking them both onto the ground. They were shocked into silence at first, too surprised to even groan in pain, but when their eyes flickered to the frog that had ribbit-ed, jumping from Martin's open hands, they broke into loud laughter, standing up. "You put a frog into my bed one more time, and I'll skin you." Arthur threatened and Martin simply grinned. _

_ "Yes ma'am." He said, before turning his head to see his mother at the door._

_ "Martin!" she cried, waving her hand. "We have a visitor! You too, Arthur, I'd like you to meet him!" Lady Elizabeth had said, and the Governess had nodded, taking Martin's hand and leading him back inside. Dragging him to the bathroom, he cleaned him up, trying to get the grass stains off of his trousers as best as he could before giving up and leading him into the parlor, where a large man sat, holding a plate of tea. _

_ "This here is my son, Martin Charles Pinkerton. Martin, love, say hello to the Dutch of Whitefield. He's your father's business partner." She said with a smile and Martin had politely greeted the man. _

_However, another man standing at attention at the side of the room, close to the child, was interesting enough – as well as peculiarly strange. The Dutch turned his head to face Arthur, looking him over. "Hello, I pray this may not be so bold, but may I inquire who you are?" He said and Arthur blinked in surprise. He was being addressed?_

_ Bowing quickly, he straightened up. "Hello, sir. I am Arthur Kirkland, this here boy's Governess." He said with a smile and once more, he saw the quick raise of the eyebrows as the man's mouth opened to release a flood of questions._

The King of Denmark had listened quite intently and was genuinely fascinated by his story, listening to how the Dutch was immensely amused by Arthur's occupation, requiring talking to him alone during one afternoon at tea time. It was then that more questions popped up about Arthur and his job that caused the Dutch to sit back in his chair and nod in amazement. Arthur had willingly majored in education during his university years, and after a while, he had entered the field of teaching at home. Soon enough, he had found himself being complimented of his Governing roles, and was persuaded by a few close friends into the act. Of course, they had started it off as a joke in the beginning, but were quickly shocked when Arthur came home, flourishing a certificate that clearly read 'Governess Arthur Kirkland.' Seeing that most of his friends were girls to begin with, they didn't particularly mind when he came out to them a few days later, saying that if he was to be called 'Governess' instead of 'Governor,' they might as well know the reason why. They supported him fully despite the fact that homosexuality was known as 'extreme taboo.' The idea always struck him as disappointing. The 1800's sure was harsh. Regardless, they found his job amusing, and dutifully kept his sexuality a secret. However, together, they never failed to tease him.

Arthur found it surprising that he shamelessly told the King his story. Perhaps it was because the man intimidated him by his height, yet made him feel comfortable with his nods and happy inputs. The man had simply nodded and congratulated him on living life the way he wanted, before they parted on pleasant terms. Arthur was dumbfounded, for he had just had a pleasant conversation with a king.

The beginning of the night had gone around easy enough, meeting a few people, and explaining (in a shortened, LESS detailed version) his occupation. He made a few friends and met many famous people, gradually learning how to suppress his awed stutter whenever a name that held much importance was uttered. Eventually, he had taken a seat at one of the tables that lined the walls of the hall, crossing his legs casually and holding a glass of champagne in his hand. People were dancing and skirts were fluttering everywhere. The conversations that swept across the rooms were endless, as people enjoyed themselves to their hearts delight as the lights that hung from the ceiling swung in time with the music.

It fascinated Arthur from the moment he stepped into the main dance hall, surprised when he saw rays and flashes of lights bouncing to and fro. At first he was about to comment nervously on it – was it supposed to happen? But in less than a few seconds, he recognized it as part of the display. It was the mansion's charm and specialty – the moving lights.

As the night progressed and Arthur was introduced to more people, he came across the Dutch Whitefield once more who was animatedly talking to a tall blonde man that was listening to his every word with a smile. The Dutch had caught sight of him by the table and immediately made his way over, leading the man with him. Arthur was neither blind nor stupid when he saw a glimpse of the blonde's face. He was technically part of the noblemen crowd, so he knew a lot of its gossip. That was indeed Viscount Alfred F. Jones making his way towards him.

_'It only makes sense that they would know each other…'_ the Briton thought in awe as they made their way towards him. _'They're both so famous for what they've done, or at least for who they are.'_ He stood up when they were before him, smiling faintly at the two men.

"Ah, Arthur!" The Dutch had greeted him enthusiastically, surprising the Governess a little when the man addressed him so informally. So, they were friends, apparently?

Arthur bobbed his head a bit in greeting. "Dutch, it's a pleasure to see you again." He said and watched as the large man turned his head. "Alfred," he started, causing Arthur to raise his eyebrow. First name basis as well. Friends? Or was the Dutch just this informal? "This is my friend Governess Arthur Kirkland, and he is here as my guest." He said and Arthur turned to smile at the Viscount.

However, as the Viscount was being introduced to by the Dutch, a smaller man, a staff member, had run up to him, whispering in his ear. A small frown flashed across his face, his flawless portrait wrinkling a bit before it flattened out into its cool look again, and he nodded, murmuring a quick thank you. He had straightened up in time to hear 'Arthur Kirkland' emit from the Dutch's mouth and to Alfred, it was enough to know he didn't miss much. "Sir Kirkland," he said, flashing his charming smile once more, sticking out his hand in greeting. "It's simply a delight to meet you, a friend of my own. I'm Viscount Jones." He said.

At first Arthur didn't want to accept it, but as he continued to stare, he was simply blown away by how attractive Alfred was. He had a flawless face without a single blemish, and had a beautifully profound jawline. His lips were set in a smile that could send any girl reeling and behind spectacles were the brightest pair of light blue eyes Arthur had ever seen. They were like the ocean, or at least a bright sky that hung very rarely in England. And that was how he saw it – The Viscount's eyes were very rare. His voice held such a prominent American accent that Arthur could do nothing but give a small, hesitant smile of his own. The Viscount had greeted him with the title 'Sir' and not with Governess. It was either he recognized it as strange and refused to use it, or he wanted to emphasize the fact that he saw Arthur was clearly a man. Either way, Arthur was taken away. "It's a pleasure as well, Viscount." He murmured in reply.

"Yes, yes, well you two make friends and whatnot," the Dutch cut in quickly, looking a bit hurried. "The missus is finding a hard time with a few of the guests, and I shall aid her." He said before quickly turning tail and leaving. The two blondes watched as he walked off quickly into the crowd, calling out for his wife.

Arthur turned back to face the Viscount, still a bit startled at being so quickly left on his own with a big name. Everyone was acting as if he were nobility, when he was simply…well, in crude terms, a 'nanny.' Alfred turned back to him as well, smiling politely. "Ever a busy man is he, correct?" he said conversationally with a chuckle and Arthur merely nodded.

"Yes, he is…" he said, pursing his lips and looking out onto the dance floor. "However, the ball so far is amazing, so I give him my congratulations that he can host this well." He said just as politely. He was taxing his mind right now, trying to find the right words to make him sound smart and sophisticated, for he was in the presence of nobility.

"Mm, I agree." Hummed the Viscount as he swirled the wine glass he held in his hands. "It truly is quite the event. Many people, as usual." He glanced at Arthur vaguely, taking a sip. "Is this your first time at Whitefield's?" He inquired. "I don't recall ever hearing of your name, and I speak with no offense." He said.

Arthur wanted to splutter, telling him that it was absolutely no offense at all and that he and his lowly name shouldn't even BE present at this ball. But instead he nodded quickly. "Yes, this is my first time here, for I'd only met the Dutch just a few months ago." He told him, trying to keep his eyes off of the attractive man. He held not much affection, and his attention was merely focused on admiration for his face. The Viscount truly had a nice face.

"Then I do hope you enjoy the rest of your night here, Sir Kirkland." The striking man had said, turning his head to give him a small nod, raising his glass slightly in a bit of a cheer. "Pardon my rudeness, but I am currently in search of a certain miss I owe a dance to. I shall take my leave, if you don't mind." He said, and Arthur felt his heart deflate. Ah yes, the charming ones always had to be straight. Then again, he was supposed to be too, but he rebelled against life. Oh well. Meeting attractive straight men (which was always) had turned into such a natural occurrence that Arthur couldn't care less anymore, and he smiled and nodded.

"Ah yes, of course, don't leave a lady waiting. I believe that's one of the worst insults possible." He said with a chuckle and the Viscount merely laughed in return. Secretly, Arthur was honored to have had the opportunity of listening to the famous Jones laugh.

"Yes," The man replied, "I believe it is. Good night to you, sir." He said and with a bob of his head, he turned to walk away. Returning his attention back to the floor, the Governess watched as men moved their women across in beautiful dance steps, and he smiled faintly. He might not have the chance and/or urge to take a woman on the floor to dance, but either way, he believed that he would have a good night. In fact, many times people had come up to him, after seeing his short conversation with the famous Viscount. He felt swamped by the five-minutes-of-fame, but regardless, meeting new people was a delight.

"Hello!" came the next greeting. "I'm Antonio Carriedo, a knight of the Queen's castle herself…"

* * *

"FRANKLIN. WILLIAM. JONES." The Viscount had yelled, pacing back and forth in his main hall. His cravat was hanging loosely and his buttons were undone, the tailcoat flapping vigorously behind him. His actual best friend, Knight Antonio Carriedo was standing behind him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him. He had come back with Alfred to many scenes like this, and he merely waited it out. At first, the Spaniard felt mighty sorry for the small boy, always getting in trouble, and getting scolded by nearly everyone in the Manor. However, when he woke up one night after staying over, he found his room covered in roses, causing him to nearly gag and throw up. He had stumbled out of the bed, intent on getting out of the room, but the moment his feet touched the ground, he found it littered with broken glass. From that moment on, Antonio could only smile, ruffle the child's hair, and stay far away. Yes, Franklin Jones was a menace.

"Papa, I said I was trying to help cook and chef Feli-" Franklin had tried reasoning but was quickly cut off.

"Ludwig was sent to the HOSPITAL, because of what you've done, and when I was informed, I couldn't just leave because I was in the presence of the Dutch himself!" He cried, wringing his hands at the thought of his German chef being scalded by hot water pouring down his back. "What on EARTH were you doing with a pot of boiling water?!" He shouted, enraged. Franklin had merely muted himself, eyes downcast and stormy as he listened to his father go on about how that was an extreme danger hazard. "You are to never 'assist' in any cooking again, do you hear me?" He said angrily, shaking a finger down at the boy who merely turned away with a small 'tch'. "Franklin! Do you hear me?! You are to-"

"Yes I KNOW." Franklin ended up shouting, a small outburst with his lips turned down in an extreme pout, eyes watering up in the first time since a long while. Dark blue, watery eyes glared up at his father. "I know, no more cooking. So stop yelling! All you do is YELL papa, you're not even any FUN anymore because all you do is go to balls and have fun WITHOUT ME!" he screamed before turning around and sprinting out of the hall, hastily wiping his tears.

Taken back by his son's outburst, he stared in shock as Franklin ran off, Percy quick to follow. It was silent for a few minutes before he felt Antonio walk up behind him and clasp his shoulder. "Let's go to your office, amigo." He said quietly, and still in quiet shock, Alfred followed.

Was that how it really was? Was his son that angry – that wild, because he was never home? Why, he was always home! He only went to his company's shops when he needed to, and the rest of the time, he was in his office, working on papers. Franklin couldn't possibly be _that_ irritated by his 'absence' at home. And what was that about balls? Didn't his son know that it was only socially acceptable to go to balls when invited? The Viscount was only followed society's rules…Plus, what Franklin didn't know was that he was looking for a mother for him. Someone to care for him when Alfred couldn't. His child couldn't see that! Franklin didn't understand.

"Alfred." Antonio had said when Alfred was firmly seated in his chair. The Spaniard had taken up a seat across from the desk, his legs crossed. His green eyes were watching his friend stare out into space, trying to think. "Alfred." He said again, a frown gracing his lips.

"A-Ah, what?" The American had said, blinking out of his reverie, and turning to face the man with a confused, tired look. "What is it, Antonio? Shouldn't you be heading home? I'm tired." He said with a sigh.

Antonio pursed his lips and deadpanned, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "Amigo, you can't do this anymore." He said then sighed, continuing on when he noted Alfred's confused expression. "Finding a _wife_." He clarified, watching Alfred's face turn a bit stony. "Alfred, listen to me. Franklin is getting out of hand. You've been at this fruitless quest for a year now, and look what's happened! You have no wife! Franklin has gotten worse!" he said, looking concerned for his friend. "You can't keep going like this, because your butler is not his parent, or trained to help him." He emphasized and he could see in his friend's eyes that Alfred knew he was right.

"Then what?" the Viscount had spoken quietly.

"Eh, pardon?" the Spaniard said, not hearing.

"THEN WHAT?" Alfred shouted, rising up to slam his fist on his desk in frustrated anger. "Nothing I do, nothing I SAY ever gets through to that THICK mind of his! What do you mean, trained? Am I not his father? Am I not trained enough? What else is there to DO?!" he thundered. "What else is there other than a mother, or at least some kind of stronger parental figure to guide him?! Tonight I was supposed to FIND HER!" He cried, wringing his hands. He knew that he had felt _something_ that night. Some strange fluttering in his heart…But he brushed it off as some of the champagne, for the girl he was dancing with was no appealing whatsoever. "I thought she'd be here tonight! I had a FEELING!" He shouted desperately, searching his friend's face for an answer. However, he was simply faced with an expression of calmness. In fact, Antonio was smiling. "Antonio…?" he said, a bit confused, sitting back down. "I'm sorry…sorry for shou-"

The Spaniard shook his head quickly, standing up to place his hands on the desk. "That's it though, Alfred. You are GETTING it, mi amigo." He said with a grin, and chuckled at Alfred's expression of lost confusion. "You need someone now. RIGHT now, to help that…that issue." He said, waving his hand to the door. "You need a Governess." He said seriously.

"A Governess…?" the American had repeated, blinking a bit as he furrowed his brows, thinking. Ah, that's right. England had Governesses, while America had… what were they called? Nannies? He needed a…nanny?

"Si, Alfred. A Governess. A strong, parental guidance mentor to help nurture the child when you yourself can't. And you can hire you quickly!" he said with a reassuring smile.

The blonde was rubbing his chin, thinking quickly. Perhaps he could get a Governess in the meantime, allowing himself even more time to look for a wife and a proper mother, granted that the Governess do her proper work and teach Franklin to behave. It was silent for a few minutes as Alfred thought, formulating it in his mind. The idea appealed to him, yes. For the moment, he'd hire a Governess. "Alright." He then said, nodding and looking up to his friend. "I'll hire one. But I don't know of any." He said with a frown, blinking again once Antonio's smile grew wider.

"Perfect for you, Alfred. I had met one tonight. The name is Governess Kirkland, and from what I've been told, they are quite good at handling children." He said with a grin, recalling back to his conversation with Arthur, remembering when the man told him of his adventures with all sorts of children. Yeesh, the Governess sure had it quite hard, judging by his stories.

Kirkland? As in, Arthur Kirkland? Alfred recognized the name quickly, as was his way of making new friends. So, the man's wife was a Governess? That was interesting; perhaps they didn't have any children of their own, allowing the woman to have free time to spare with other children. Seeing that he knew her husband, perhaps the hiring process would go smoothly. Alfred smiled at the thought, nodding once more to Antonio.

"Good. Go in my stead, Antonio, I'll give you the money and documents you need. Please hire Governess Kirkland."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Oh dear god, well finally this is done. Took me a few days, yes, but I tried real hard to get to it. What did you guys think?

Anyways, Here's a TL;DR: Franklin got in trouble, Alfred goes to a ball at his good friend's, the Whitefields. Arthur goes too, and it gives back story of how he became to be a Governess, as well as his sexual preference. They meet, lame conversation, and they go home. Franklin gets in trouble again and Antonio persuades Alfred into hiring a governess, who (unknowingly) ends up agreeing in hiring Governess Kirkland.

Now before you say anything, yes. I _know_ that Alfred and Arthur's conversation was short and lame. But that was the point, because they really don't know each other at all, and seeing by their back stories, they couldn't care less if they ever met again. The dialogue will pick up next chapter, I promise!

Just in case there's confusion, maybe:

-The Whitefields: Close friends with Alfred due to business, and the Dutch simply met Arthur. They aren't good friends, just acquaintances, and Arthur was invited out of that fact.

- No, there was nothing going on with Matthias and Arthur. He was just there to help bring out Arthur's Governess back story!

-The Pinkertons: The family Arthur was and is currently still Governing in. Their son's name is off of an roleplay that I'm doing with a friend, and I currently simply adore it!

-Yes, Arthur's gay, No, Alfred's not gay

Other than that…I believe that's really it. Starting next chapter, I'll have someone as my beta and this'll be twice as edited and nicely written. Other than that, pardon anything that I miss! (But seriously, I was also in a rush to publish this, If I overlooked anything, do tell.)

Rates and Reviews make a happy Author!


	3. Chapter 2

**~Chapter 2: An Innocent Demon, A Rich Beggar, and a Man Refusing Money~**

The next morning for Alfred had started off slightly dull. Luckily, there were no clashes and clangs of metal suits of armor cascading down in the hallway of the manor at an ungodly hour. However, there was an aura of extreme depression when the Viscount opened his eyes the next day, fluttering against the harsh morning light that forced its way past the thin layer of curtains that were hanging in front of the closed windows. The room was silent and everything was still, save for the rising and falling of his chest and the soft sounds of air that escaped his lips when he breathed. He stayed in that position for a few minutes, breathing soundly as his eyes were trained up on the ceiling. It was his day-after-a-ball routine, to reflect on the night before.

As usual, the ball started off the same as always. The Viscount remembered when he had first stepped into the familiar Manor and he was warmly greeted by his good friend, the Dutch. From then on, he was immediately swamped by many other people. There were nobles he had met before at previous parties and even some more closer friends were there. He never refused a dance, and when given the opportunity, he would ask for one himself, sending a flutter to arise in amongst the girls. Lily, the main attraction of the night, had even been asked by the Viscount to have her first dance, much to the delight of her parents. Of course, the Dutch wasn't expecting for his Viscount friend to immediately seek after her hand. She was a mere sixteen and the Viscount was already twenty-four. The dance was out of mere courtesy for the sake of their family friendship.

But Lily had been sweet, and they had even conversed on her opinion on being introduced to society. The ball was lovely yet intimidating, but she proved to be having plenty of fun. The girl herself seemed to be whisked away by many younger men who fancied her attention, whereas the Viscount himself always seemed to be busy. He had met up with his best friend, Sir Antonio Carriedo, who was part of the Queen's guard. Together with either him or the Dutch, they would introduce him as well as converse with many new faces and old faces, bringing up past times and old topics.

Of course, due to being constantly talked to most of the night, Alfred's attention was always wavering, never staying on one person for too long. He'd meet a face and remember their name and title, storing it in his memory for future references. There were the Lucases, and the Carletons, and the Findlers and the large family clan of Beesingtons. Most of their names were large and stored down deep, deep into history. But he also had met a few minor people, to which he greeted just as kindly. Madame Chesley was a sweetheart, and Arthur Kirkland was awkward…

Right, speaking of the Kirklands…

Sitting up in bed, the Viscount rubbed his eyes, clearing away what was left of his sleep-ridden mind as he immediately remembered the meeting with the shorter man. He frowned to himself just a bit, for in all honesty, he wasn't paying much attention to when he was introduced to the blonde man. He didn't believe that Arthur held a big name, and judging by how he held his own posture – as was said, awkwardly, - Alfred didn't think that he was anything…well, special. In fact, the whole incident was simply a vague memory in the back of his mind now. All he could fathom to remember were a pair of distinct, bushy eye brows and a mop of blonde hair. Other than that, the dim night and the roving lights made it hard to commit Arthur's face into his memory. However, he believed it wouldn't be so much of a big deal if he had forgotten it for the fact that he was soon to be introduced to his wife, where he would surely met the man again.

Slipping out of the bed, he took his time to slide his feet into his slippers, and make his way to the large closet on the side of the room. For a tired man, there were enough thoughts running through his mind as he tried to plan out the rest of this week's events – many of them centering around Governess Kirkland herself.

Pulling on a dress coat, he licked his lips in thought, his brows furrowed slightly. He looked at himself in the mirror and started to adjust the gold vest that was pressing against his chest. Governess Kirkland, whatever her name may be, was married to Arthur Kirkland. That particular piece of information was a bit worrisome to him already. Not only did he also forget what Arthur's title was, but it was the fact that the Governess he was hiring was _married._ Usually, most Governesses were single women, allowing themselves to travel with their jobs. Their homes were their hosts' homes, and they would stay in a room designated for them. It allowed them full time to be around the child, as well as being available if there was an incident in the night, and she was needed. But the only problem was that the Governess was married to Arthur. Were they only recently married, and the woman was still working in that occupation? Alfred shook his head absently. No, that kind of situation usually did not happen. Was Arthur really okay with allowing his wife to be living in other people's homes, looking after other families' children? That was probably it, then. The Kirklands had no children. And it was reasonable since what Alfred remembered of Arthur was that he looked young, almost younger than him, if not the same age.

The only feasible explanation to why Governess Kirkland was a married Governess was that maybe it was a job that she took from time to time, depending on her salary. And perhaps her skills and work ethics were so efficient and productive that the woman fixed up the child in just a few days, allowing herself to return home to Arthur. Yes, of course, that had to be it. There was simply no other reason. However, he desperately hoped that the Governess was a strong type of person who would be able to deal with Franklin's ridiculousness. But that was her job, and he hoped that she would do the best she could. She would be the first Governess he would have ever hired, and he hoped that it would be for the best.

Ringing a bell that he had on the corner of the desk, he waited patiently for Percy to make his appearance in his room as usual. The man looked at him with gentle eyes and Alfred couldn't help but to smile gratefully at the butler. Percy was there for him always, never backing down from an order, and was probably the closest family friend that the Jones' had. The Viscount treasured this man. "Percy, can you please prepare a room for a guest? Also, start to clean up the house just a bit…" He asked him and the butler merely bowed, murmuring that he shall do so. He straightened up, curiosity twinkling in his eyes. He was aware of how often his master went off to balls, but over the course of all of them, he had never brought someone home other than Antonio, and Antonio already had a room here, requiring no preparation. Also, any important guests that would've come to visit the Jones' would have been brought up to Percy at least a few days before hand. Or perhaps this was the 'few days'?

"Sir?" Percy inquired, watching Alfred's eyebrow rise up curiously. "If I may, who will be our guest?" he asked simply and he watched as Alfred's mouth turned up into a small smile.

"Hmm…I don't believe they will be considered a 'guest', judging by their length of stay…" he murmured, but grinned nonetheless. "However, our upcoming guest will be arriving tomorrow." He told the butler. _'Hopefully.´_ He also thought, vaguely wondering how Antonio had done on his recruitment. "And tomorrow will be the start of a new employee in this house, for I have hired Franklin a Governess."

* * *

"Franklin, by tomorrow, you will have your new Governess." He had told his son with his arms clasped behind him, his long legs holding him up in the middle of the parlor. Franklin himself was dressed smartly in his own little blue suit and a mini cravat stuffed into the shirt between his neck and the stiff collar. He fidgeted awkwardly on the large, plush couch as he tried to stay silent and not say anything that could get him into any more trouble. The boy himself had gone to sleep restlessly, tossing and turning in his bed, unable to will himself to close his eyes for longer than a few minutes. The words he had shouted at his father were harsh, and he was aware of the impact it had on _both _of their thoughts. To Franklin, he simply felt more depressed at the remembrance of his mother leaving him and his father behind, and his father growing stricter. He reprimanded Franklin almost every day, but he was never able to inflict any damage, nor leave a lesson that the child would take heed. But now, his words have gone too far, and he had spoken way out of turn. Now his father was not simply scolding him, but now he had resorted to _hiring_ a fake _mother. _

There was only so much 'fakeness' that Franklin could take on, and the Viscount himself was aware of that. He knew that his son had changed because his mother had left. He had _known_ how Franklin was like before the change and he was completely aware of what the boy could really be. It was all due to the want of attention… Alfred wasn't an idiot, so that fact had come to mind almost immediately. Franklin was deserted by someone who had showered so much love and care onto him and now he was alone. The mother and father that had once watched his every move with admiration filling their eyes were gone, and all he had left was a father who could barely stand to even look at him only because he looked so much like his mother. There were no more caring words, only the harsh reprimands that left Alfred's lips. No more did the Viscount look out for the things Franklin did right, but instead pursed his lips and shook his head whenever the boy did something wrong.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that after Charlotte had left, Alfred was looking out for every flaw in a person, finding the things that brought them down, rather than the things that made them shine in his eyes.

"A Governess, papa…?" Franklin had asked hesitantly, staring at his father with shocked, dark brown orbs. "What is…" he started but then trailed off, figuring that by the look of his father's expression, he was about to launch into full detail on what exactly it was. Not that he didn't know… He knew fully well. In fact, he was quite knowledgeable for a six year old…But he knew that how his father would say it was how it was to be. So he might as well listen to it.

With a short clearing of his throat, the tall blonde turned around quickly to face Franklin with a small, reassuring smile. However, it didn't reach his eyes whatsoever. Instead of being one of his genuine ones that stretched the corners of his eyes, this smile was the smallest of a lip tug. "A Governess…" he started off, stretching his arms behind his back. "Is someone who will take care of you for the moment." Franklin could feel his brows start to furrow at his father's words, and Alfred immediately noticed it. He knelt down in front of his boy and outstretched one hand to clasp it on top of Franklin's tightly, squeezing it with a faint, affectionate smile. "And when I say 'for the moment,' I mean 'for the moment.'" He clarified and then chuckled when Franklin's confused expression deepened further.

"I don't – " Franklin began and was immediately cut off by his father who had released his hand and stood up.

"And by 'for the moment,' I will now tell you the reason to why I have been going off most nights to these balls and…well, why I have not had the time to play with you." He said with an apologetic smile as he watched Franklin's expression grow a bit stormy. He cleared his throat once more, rubbing the back of his neck momentarily as he tried to find the best way to explain to his son that he was doing this for his own good. "For the past…ah, year, I should say, I've decided to start socializing with the crowds again." He said and as he glanced at Franklin, the child was quiet. However, he could see the though process run through his head. The young boy was probably muttering to himself that Alfred had never really stopped being social. He just amped up his ball-attending this year. "And the reason to that is so that I can find a woman." He stated with a hint of pride in his voice.

At that, the boy jumped out of his seat, one of his hands still clutching at the arm rest tightly. His eyes were wide and his expression was one of ultimate shock. In fact, not even of ultimate shock. It was a look of utter betrayal and absolute hopelessness. His father had finally given up and was actually _searching_ for a woman to replace his mother. Yes, he knew that his mother had committed a very bad deed, and that there was no hope for her coming back, and their family fixing themselves together. Yes, that was impossible. However, to hear that the great Viscount was actually stooping as low as to _searching_ for a new woman was disgraceful – even to a child at Franklin's age. Of course, it was only natural to be betrothed to someone. Marriage between noble families kept the bloodlines strong. But regardless, a man who had just lost a very close woman did not immediately go out looking for a new one simply _one year_ out of his past marriage. In fact, they were married for seven beautiful years until the incident. Was all that so easy to throw away at the chance of finding a new wife?

"Papa," Franklin interjected. "Why?!" He cried out, immediately shrinking back when Alfred shot a glare at him for his outburst. Yet he continued on. "Why are you looking for a woman? Why are you replacing… Why?!" He pleaded, desperate for an answer. He got one quickly enough when Alfred turned to face him with a deep set frown.

"It's not simply just for my pleasure and our name, Frankie." He said, a bit perturbed at being interrupted right when he was about to explain what good it did for the boy.

"Then what? I don't understand why!" the younger male had said.

The Viscount had to restrain himself from shouting at the smaller boy for interrupting his explanation and instead motioned down forcefully for him to sit down, to which Franklin grudgingly did. "You truly have no manners, boy." He said with an irked tone and prevented another outburst by holding up his hand to stop him. "Listen to me, and then figure out your feelings afterwards." He commanded. "As I said, I am not after a woman for merely my sake." He said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I am also looking for a woman who will do you well as a mother." He said with a sigh, moving back to behind his desk, sitting down on his chair and clasping his hands together. He made sure to continue talking before Franklin could, already noting how he had risen up from his chair and was staying standing, hands clenched at his side as he could _sense_ the anger boiling in him. "Your actions have turned for the worse, Frankie, and I believe it's because you are at loss of a mother." He tried to explain to him.

"Papa! What are you-"

"So due to that, I have taken the initiative to find someone suitable in raising you up alongside with me. No, this woman won't be replacing…Charlotte…" he said stiffly, the name coming to his lips like a toxic substance. It surprised him when the name was found to be too hard to say. After quickly thinking about it, he had come to realize that it had been far too long since he had uttered the name last. "However, she will try her best to be a good mother for you, as well as a wife to me." He said seriously, and looked at his son's face, trying to see if his reasoning was able to calm the fire that was alight in dark blue orbs. Apparently they had not.

Finally able to speak, the words that were threatening to burst forth from Franklin's mouth did and in a very impolite manner. "No!" He cried out, trembling just a bit. "I don't want another mother! I don't care if she isn't replacing momma, I don't want another one!" He said distressfully and Alfred grew irritated once more. Was there ever a time that Franklin would just sit down and accept things the way they were?

He rose from his seat. "Then how are we going to fix you!?" he very nearly shouted. His hand gestured aggressively at the boy before him. "You're turning into a menace and the rumors have been flying around that you're a disgrace for a son." He ran his fingers through his crisp, blonde hair, successfully tousling it in an action of irritation. "I can do nothing more for you, Franklin, because you simply refuse to listen to all reason! You talk back, and you're still at such a young age! You wreak havoc in the house and the servants can barely keep up with you, running to me for help as you simply run off to destroy yet another thing!" Now, the Viscount had slightly lost it, his thoughts spilling out from his mouth, cascading without a filter. "What do you want me to do!? What _can_ I do if you refuse to listen?! You're already aware of how different we are since we aren't natively British, but are you simply going to add more flames to their rumors, and have their nasty words taint our country? Then it'll be your fault, Franklin. Your downfall will come from your own actions." He hissed in conclusion.

However, there was merely silence when he finished his rant. He was turned towards the window, having moved from his desk during the heat of his yelling. His hand clutched at one of the blinds tightly as his burning eyes stared out onto the front lawn. He waited for the expected outburst to happen. Franklin was not a boy to let something like that go down so easily, and he was always ready with another snappy response back.

But no response was given, and Alfred turned his head slightly to see what he was up to. Was Franklin crying? He hadn't done that in front of his father ever since his mother had left. Alfred wasn't even sure if Franklin cried anymore. But he heard no sound, and when he caught sight of an empty chair, he completely whirled around to see that the presence of his son was no longer. The door across from his desk was swinging open, showing that he had recently just left. In fact, the Viscount could still hear the pounding of feet running down the hallway outside of his office – a sign of Franklin running away. Running from him, running from his new mother, running from the only thing that could help him.

Where did Alfred go wrong? The tall man let out a deep sigh as he dropped back onto his chair, his face in one of his hands that was propped up by the elbow on the desk. Thick blonde locks fell messily around his fingers as he rubbed his chin, staring out the door. This was all for Franklin. All of it, and he was sure that one of his reasoning was wrong. Then why wasn't Franklin reciprocating?

"I'm too young for this…" the Viscount moaned to himself, debating whether or not he should childishly drop his forehead onto the desk. At a mere twenty-four, the Viscount had already encountered fame, a scandal, and now a stubborn son. For the first time in quite a while, he mentally cursed society's rule for urging young marriage between nobles.

Instead of the desk, he resorted to tilting his head back to rest against the large back of his chair, clasping his hands in his lap. He willed sleep to come and succumb over him, for he was now mentally exhausted, and he was in absolutely no mood for any sort of important matters. Eventually, sleep did overtake his mind and Percy found him an hour later, half-curled up in his chair, breathing evenly. The Butler smiled, retreating only so that he could fetch a blanket. His master was a good one, he was sure. A bit insensitive, but a good one, nonetheless.

* * *

The Spaniard dropped onto a sofa in the Pinkerton's parlor that afternoon, a look of utter distress written across his flawless tan face, causing his light green eyes to contrast against the expression. He was immediately treated to by Elizabeth who had entered the room with a tray of hot tea and a few biscuits. She set it down on the small table before him and he immediately grabbed for the cup, sipping dejectedly. It had become routine, this entering and serving, sipping and sighing.

Why? Because it was the fourth time Governess Arthur Kirkland had rejected him today.

"How did it go this time, dear…?" Elizabeth had asked softly, sitting next to him on the sofa, her day skirt flowing to the floor, as she was turned to face him. Her face was set on an expression of concern as she reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder gently. "Did he accept…?" she asked, but the moment she had walked in and noticed his expression, she knew that the stubborn Governess had not.

"NO!" The Spaniard wailed in despair, setting the cup down so that he could wring his hands in the air and fall backwards onto the soft back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling with misery-stricken eyes. "For the fourth time, he's said no!" he said in a groan before dropping his head into his hands. "What am I going to dooo….?" He moaned. "Alfred needs him by tomorrow…"

Elizabeth merely sat at his side, regarding him with a sympathetic expression. She noticed her husband by the door and when she looked up, she read his eyes and the question within. _"Another refusal?"_ He had mentally asked and the woman merely sighed and nodded, turning back to look at Antonio. It was scarily surprising how they had already grown fond of the young man, whom they had simply met that morning, just past the crack of dawn. His bright personality seemed to charm everyone in the house…except for Arthur. At the start, the Pinkertons were very wary on letting Arthur go due to the fact that they had all grown quite close, and Martin was fond of the blonde Briton himself. The first and second times Antonio was rejected, they felt a bit relieved, and only treated the Spaniard sympathetically out of the pity they felt. However, when Antonio jumped from his seat, intent on a third try, they were surprised. He was rejected, and they were left in a state of question. Should they let Arthur go? Martin had already turned into a wonderful child, and perhaps they were keeping the Governess back from great opportunities. They were aware of the Jones' situation, having a wild child. Perhaps they could finally let Arthur find a new family?

Even before Antonio decided to try for the fourth time, the Pinkertons – as well as a very reluctant Martin – had agreed that Antonio's determination could not go unnoticed, and that he should recruit Arthur for the job. The only problem was that Arthur seemed to grow even colder the more times Antonio asked, and the host family was sure that there would be a point that the Briton would burst. Staying quiet in order to brood properly, the Spaniard vaguely thought back to this very morning, to where it had all started.

_The door was being knocked on incessantly, the caller being very determined to enter. Whoever it was was also quite lucky that the man of the house was already awake and about with his work, for James was quite the morning person. However, just because he was already awake didn't mean that he was exactly eager to open the door at six in the morning._

_ "Who are you?" was the first thing that came from the older man's mouth as Sir James stared at a Spaniard dressed nobly that was on their door step. There was a horse, tethered to a pole behind him and James figured that that was how this man had come. The man himself was a shock. He wasn't English whatsoever – or even Caucasian for that matter. He had the tan, smooth skin of a Spaniard and his hair was dark, with dark lashes framing a pair of pretty green eyes. He wore a bright smile on his face which left James to wondering how on earth this man was able to get up early in the morning. He didn't seem to be any older than twenty-four! "And what brings you to my home?" He asked a little less warily, for the man's bright smile was truly calming him down, and making him look a lot less suspicious._

_ The Spaniard gave a small wave, a tiny salute with two fingers. It surprised the other man, he could tell, for that usually wasn't what he was expecting as a greeting. "Good morning, sir!" He chirped. "I am Knight Carriedo of the Queen's Guard. I hope I haven't called at such an unpredictable, early time." He told him and almost immediately, James broke out into a small splutter, stumbling to the side and pulling the door open. It was obvious that there was fear in his eyes, wondering why someone like him was here. What had he done wrong? _

_ "Ah, yes, yes, pardon me. Do come in!" the man had said hastily, ushering in Antonio without a second's hesitation. "It's truly not a problem." He said quickly, showing the man to the parlor. "I have already been awake and attending to my duties, so your arrival is simply on time." He assured him, fretting a bit over the situation, unsure of what to do or say. He didn't want to straight out ask him what the Queen wanted with him. In fact, James himself was quite at loss of comprehension. He didn't own that great of companies, and was only rich due to family inheritance. What did he do?_

_ Antonio had already noticed the panic in James' eyes, and being the mischievous person he was, allowed the nobleman to wallow and sink in more panicked anxiety before telling him his actual intentions. It wasn't until Sir James had run out of things to fake-ly fret over and given up, resorting in sitting down on a chair across from him, did Antonio finally decide to speak._

_ "I am not here for governmental purposes," he started and James did nothing to hide his very obvious, relieved sigh. Antonio grinned. "Instead, I am here at the request of a friend." He told him and he saw James' look confused. Who was he friends with that James knew…? Well…technically, no one. "I'm sure you're familiar with the Jones' family?" He had asked, and he was expecting a confirming answer. Almost everyone knew Jones' family._

_ "Yes, I believe I do." James replied seriously, starting to get more into the conversation. He didn't know the Viscount on a face-to-face basis, but he did know who the man was, and his family situation. His wife left, his son was now wild. That was the simple gist. "Is something the matter? Does the Viscount need something?"_

_ Antonio simply smiled at the words. "Yes, in fact, he does. He would like to hire your Governess, Arthur Kirkland, in hopes that he will help Franklin Jones back into the way he once was."_

* * *

_ "Who the bloody hell are you?" The blonde-haired, bushy-browed, green-eyed Briton had asked the Spaniard when he had walked into the middle of one of Martin's lessons, being held in the drawing room. He didn't remember Antonio from the night of the ball at all – but then again, Arthur had tried to forget that entire night in general._

_ They were learning Italian, a language that Martin used to despise, but now loved due to Arthur's fantastic way of teaching him. "We're currently in the middle of something." He said with a small indignant sniff that simply made Antonio snicker mentally. The Brit didn't remember him, huh? This Governess sure had a bite. Believing that it would be the only effective way, he rummaged around his pockets for the piece of official paper that the knights were required to bring everywhere. He unfolded it, letting Arthur see it, before pulling on an official expression. "My name is Knight Antonio Carriedo of the Queen's Guard, and Governess Kirkland, I'd like to speak with you." _

_ That surely got the Governess to drop everything that he was doing, muttering softly to the brunette boy that he'd be back soon, before following Antonio out into the hallway, then into the dining room where he could sit at the chairs at listen intently, anxiety arising in his chest. Was it because of his title? Were they not okay with him going by the name Governess? He hadn't had any trouble for it over the past three years! Was it because they figured out he was a homosexual and wanted to send him to an institute? The Pinkertons didn't mind at all, and were simply ignorant of it, allowing him to live as he pleased. What could the Queen want?!_

_Out in the hallway, Antonio stood nearer to the wall with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for the other man to slowly make his way out of the room, and come towards him. The Spaniard watched as Arthur walked forward, looking almost as nervous as James was. However, he could tell that where Sir James was lacking in caution, Arthur would make up with guarded words and a careful tongue. In fact, the burning, emerald eyes that made their appearance under large brows were enough to make Antonio smirk. He hadn't even spoken to the man yet but he was sure that it would most definitely be an interesting experience. Perhaps this man would even be a good addition to the Jones' household. Assuming that his prediction was correct and that Arthur was a very sassy person, he could talk back to Franklin with ease, and it would be socially acceptable. _

_ "Governess Arthur Kirkland?" The tan man started off as a greeting, watching as Arthur paused just a few feet in front of him, his hands limp at his sides. He wore a simple attire, it being a thin-ish white button down shirt which had the sleeves rolled up to just before his elbows. His trousers were a light brown, his plain dress shoes showing from underneath the bottom. Antonio forced himself not to raise an eyebrow at his very…_lax_, attire. Was that how normal Governesses dressed? He was certain that they tried to look presentable almost always, wearing dresses and…Ah. Well. Perhaps Arthur made up his own dress code, then. "I believe we met at the Whitefields' ball, yesterday night." He said with a cheerful smile, watching the surprise flicker in deep green eyes._

_ Last night? The ball? This man and he….Oh. Oh, yes they had. The Governess immediately looked slightly apologetic, a frown gracing his face. "Ah? Did we? My deepest apologies, for greeting you as such…" he mumbled quickly, giving the knight a quick bow. _

_ However, Antonio merely looked at him with an amused smile, waving his hand dismissively as he shifted the weight of his body on another foot. "Ah, please don't worry about it that much, I understand how much of an importance it is for the child you are governing to be given the best treatment there is possible, in able to ensure their proper upbringing and education." The Knight spoke smartly, bringing up the general gist of what he knew a Governess was supposed to do. He figured that if he sucked up a bit, then he'd get Arthur to agree quicker. "Isn't that correct, Governess?"_

_ "A-Ah?" Arthur replied, thoroughly surprised. "Yes, you're correct." He agreed uneasily, already feeling a sketchy vibe emanating from the knight. What, did this man have a Governess before? He didn't look like the type to have kids…much less get married. Were members of the guard even allowed to have families? "That's indeed what we do." The blonde man went on, regaining his confidence. "Making sure that the sons and daughters of our noble families grow into the delightful children that their parents envision them to be. Regardless how much work is needed to be put in, we will put it in." He concluded with an affirming nod. He watched the Spaniard for any sign of any reaction expressions. _

_ "And as expected," said Antonio, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You have placed the idea in such a beautiful way, that I don't doubt your skill at all." He said, and he watched Arthur blink in surprise._

_ The Briton himself was a bit shocked at the words. "Beautiful…?" He ended up repeating in confusion, his brows knitting together. "What do you mean, 'doubt'?" He then demanded in question, feeling a bit miffed that he was being so highly complimented at his occupation, yet he didn't know the reason why. _

_ "Yes, beautiful." Antonio said again. "And that brings me to why I have come to give you and your host family a call." He said and grinned a bit. "I am quite sure that you have heard the rumors, but the Viscount Alfred F. Jones has quite the wild son…" he said, inwardly grimacing at the understatement. Oh if only there was a word that correctly described the boy. _

_ On the other hand, Arthur Kirkland was listening intently to the entire explanation, anxiously waiting for this 'reason' as to why the knight was here. However, when the Spaniard mentioned the Viscount's son, his blood ran cold. 'No…no, no, no, not Franklin Jones…' he thought weakly, already growing a bit pale. Of course he had heard the rumors. The company in which he was employed under heard ALL the gossip among the nobles. All the other women at the company, as well as Arthur, knew the stories and tales of the ever infamous Viscount's son. They were also pleasantly surprised whe,n over the course of two years, the Viscount hadn't filed in for hiring a Governess. But that didn't depress them, oh no. They were quite content with staying far away from 'the child', as he was dubbed in the company, as possible. But no, GOD no, was the Viscount finally settling for his last resort? He felt himself grow extremely nervous at the thought. "Oh…?" he ended up replying weakly. "Yes…I believe I've heard some things here and there…" he mumbled and watched as Antonio's eyes widened in happiness._

_ "That's perfect, mi amigo! Because the Viscount would like to personally hire you as his son's Governess, beginning tomorrow!" The Spaniard chirped. So Arthur knew of the Jones, and that was a good thing on his own. Wasn't it the entire Governesses' natures to gravitate towards the hardest cases of children? The harder the child was to break, the better the pay was. Arthur couldn't refuse!_

_ The only thing was, Arthur _could_ refuse. And the Briton's eyes widened to the size of small saucers when he heard the proposition. His knees wobbled a bit when the starting date was next mentioned. Govern Franklin Charles Jones? The menace of noble children? The Child-That-Could-Not-Be-Contained? The Wild one? The Viscount's curse? Why on earth would he allow himself to involve with that…child? _

_ "No." he blurted out with hard eyes, watching the knight's expression of happiness fall into one of confusion. "No. I refuse. You can't make me."_

_ It had continued that way for the next few morning hours, branching into the early hours of the afternoon, just before tea time. The attempt early that morning had backfired horribly, leaving Antonio in a miserable mood. But it had only lasted for a couple of minutes before he made up his mind to try once more. Of course he had to try once more…Alfred would skin him if he came back empty handed. _

_ He tried again during Martin's free time, when he was in the backyard playing near the pond. Arthur was sitting on one of the garden chairs that were planted around a small sitting table, a book open in his hand as he kept a watchful eye on Martin at the same time. He had looked up in surprise when Antonio came to bother him once more, giving him a look of utter disappointment. What, wasn't one 'no' enough? "Sir Carriedo." He said stiffly, closing the book. He was about to rise when the brunette merely put out a hand, halting his actions, and leaving him in his seat._

_ "I am aware of your reasons as to why you wouldn't want to govern the child…" he started off and began another sincere, longer explanation as to why Arthur should come work under the roof of the Viscount._

_ Needless to say, Martin's recess had ended with a very moody Governess nearly dragging him into the house and the image of a moping Spanish knight, trudging back into the house through a different door, a look of hopelessness upon his face. _

_ The third time was no better, and instead was much worse on a series of levels. The Pinkertons had considerably warmed up to the Spaniard, (probably due to some bullshitted reasoning that the knight had given them in hopes to gain their favor…Really, Franklin was THAT bad!) and were subtly trying to drop him hints on accepting the job. In fact, he wasn't even given a day or two to consider taking it! It was if the job was set in stone, and he was required to take it…no matter what. _

_ Closer to lunchtime, Antonio had pulled him aside and tried to talk to him again, this time looking a bit more harried and was rushed with his words._

_ "Arthur, please." He said, maintaining a calm composure. "We would really like your services, and I believe that you, being…as…well, you being you, the Viscount and I both believe that you would do well, being Franklin's Governess." He had said, causing Arthur to nearly snort. Well, _those_ were the wrong words to say. Him being him? What was that to say, poking fun at his occupation preference? Antonio was going to get nowhere if he continued to beg and plead like this, the Pinkertons be damned. Also, it wasn't as if he was staying with James, Elizabeth and Martin forever. He was nearing the end of his time at the house and Martin was such a nice boy. But that didn't mean he had nowhere to go. He didn't depend on the homes of his hosts, for he had a nice apartment himself, deep in the city. It wasn't glamorous, but it worked, since most of the time he lived in the host family's house anyways. He was well of on his own, and Antonio would have to try a lot harder than that if he wanted to get Arthur to Govern at the Jones' household._

_ "No, Antonio." He said with a sense of finality in his voice. "I have already told you numerous times, I refuse to take on that job."_

_ By the time the fourth asking came around, Arthur was ready to blow a fuse. He had very violently shouted at the Spaniard, causing the man to back down immediately, knowing that it was probably best he didn't ask once more. He watched him retreat into a different room, Elizabeth quickly coming to his aid. With a roll of his eyes, the Briton turned away to brood in his room. It was _barely_ the afternoon, and already he was on an extremely short temper. Why…why the BLOODY HELL did the Viscount want him so much? Arthur could remember him…semi-clearly. Very attractive, tall, and always looking out on the dance floor. However…that was it. There was nothing else about the Viscount that he was able to perceive from that short meeting, and in all honesty, he didn't want to learn anything more. How bad of a father was he to be, if his son had turned out this way in a course of two years?_

_ Regardless of those facts, however, he desperately hoped that Antonio wouldn't ask him again. All the constant pleading and begging had started to wear him down, and he was worried that this was the man's tactic. To continue asking until Arthur was too tired to say no. And that was the thing – what if the next time, he ended up saying yes?_

* * *

"Arthur?" came the voice, just behind the Governess' door, where the man himself was sitting at his desk, looking over the lesson plans for Martin that was happening tomorrow. Yes, there'd still be a tomorrow…and there'd still be lessons. Viscount and son be damned. He stood up at the call obediently, though he took his time walking to the door. He was almost positive that the only reason James was calling upon his room was to try and convince him to take the job opportunity. But Arthur had already stated his opinion…four times. It was a strong and resounding _no_.

He opened the door, looking up at the taller man who was peering down at him in concern. His betrayed nothing through his facial expressions, instead giving the man a small smile. "Good afternoon, sir." He said with a small bob of his head. "How may I help you? Is there something in need for Martin?" he asked, as was his usual question whenever he was called upon. He had come to learn that sometimes, the parents simply wanted to talk over some wine or biscuits, to which Arthur would gladly accept. However, today was a very strange day, so Arthur resorted to his ways as a complete Governess, and not the Pinkertons' family friend.

"Ah, no…" James had started off, shaking his head. "Martin is fine, and he has decided to take a nap." He mused faintly and Arthur chuckled, nodding. The constant shouting in the house was enough to make anyone mentally tired – and he praised the Lord that the Pinkertons' were not a family that got easily aggravated by the loudness. "I simply just wanted to talk to you about…well." He said, trailing off awkwardly with a sheepish smile, waving his hand behind him in a gesture to say 'your Spanish friend.' In which Arthur replied with a steady gaze of green that said 'he's _not_ my friend.'

"Antonio?" he said bluntly, as to which James nodded with a small sigh. Everyone in the house had taken to calling each other by first name now, regardless of the fact that they barely knew each other. Antonio would beg to Arthur using 'Arthur', and Arthur would reject the man with 'Antonio.' It was just how things worked. "What about him?" he asked feigning ignorance.

Both James and Arthur knew exactly what the other was talking about, and by the looks of their faces, neither were amused. "Yes…" James said with a frown. "Antonio…" He said slowly and Arthur sighed, causing James to finally break the awkward silence. "Arthur, both Elizabeth and I truly believe you should take up this job." He ended up saying, Arthur's expression of disgust spurring him forward. "It'll truly be a new experience, and we also believe that you can learn so much more from it." He said, forcing himself into the room to walk to the middle, turning to face Arthur, who was still by the door. "Now, I now that you refuse to take on this job because of these…these 'rumors' that are floating around the Viscount's son." He continued and Arthur nearly scoffed. Rumors? They were facts. "But either way, look at it as the ultimate challenge. If you can successfully govern a boy like Franklin successfully, then you can govern any other boy or girl in the whole world." He said sincerely, stressing out his point.

Arthur grew a bit silent at that, contemplating the idea. He had actually never bothered to look at it that way, and now that he thought about it, it made clearer sense. If he could tame Franklin, he could tame anyone… But he still didn't want to. "James…" he tried to start off but was interrupted with an impatient wave of his hand.

"No, I refuse to hear it." The man had said briskly, looking at Arthur would a deep frown. "Who knows, Arthur? Maybe you'll go into this with your kind of viewpoint, but in a just a few days, you'll see that it truly is a learning experience." He said, and he didn't even bother waiting to hear of Arthur had a contradiction for it, for he continued to speak. "Also, Antonio is working his utter hardest in order to get you to change his mind." He said, gesturing brusquely to the door. "After rejecting him four times in just one morning, he is still over there muttering about how he'll ask you again before dinner comes around!" he cried, threatening to wring his hands in the air. "Don't you think it's about time to relieve the man of his pain, and accept the proposal?" he emphasized, seeing Arthur look extremely uneasy by the door. The Governess was fully aware of the Spaniard's stubbornness…however, he was stubborn himself, and he didn't want to do it…that was it. Selfishly, he didn't want to do it.

However, Sir James Pinkerton was having none of it. The silence he received from the Governess was enough to cause more irritation to brew in him, and he held up a stern finger at the younger boy, as if he were a son himself. "This here is an order, Arthur Kirkland." He started off.

Arthur's eyes grew wide and for the second time that day, he grew pale. _'No…no, no, no, James PLEASE.'_ He mentally begged, unable to find the words to actually stop the older man who obviously had more authority over him.

"After this here conversation, I order that you march yourself back into that room and tell Knight Carriedo that you're going to accept his job offer. You start packing tonight!"

_'NO!'_

* * *

There should be a limit as to just how happy a man can be when someone accepts a job proposal. There should be rules that mature men should not jump when the words 'I accept' are to be said. There should also be extents of physical contact that are allowed to be displayed when Arthur Kirkland accepted the job.

Yet there he was. Smothered into the chest of an overly-happy Spanish man who was also currently jumping just a bit in utter excitement. Arthur merely stood there, trying his best to not let his feet lift off of the ground.

"Oh! Dios mio!" Antonio had yelled, launching himself at Arthur and grabbing him into a hug, swinging him in a large, affectionate circle. It shocked the Governess so badly that he was speechless, face red and looking indignant. "Thank the Lord, the God, the Queen, the Pinkertons! Oh, bless you all!" the knight simply sang out in the large room, much to the amusement of James and Elizabeth. What the knight was doing now was close to being labelled 'indecent'. However, due to his current state of constant rejection, they couldn't possibly correct his actions when Arthur had finally accepted, walking into the room as slow as possible, sullen and miserable, muttering 'I am Governess Kirkland, and Knight Carriedo, I accept your offer.'

But after the accepting of jobs and the one-sided celebration of the knight, Arthur had quickly fled the room. He didn't really want to see James and Elizabeth, even though the woman had rested a hand on his shoulder before he left, murmuring, "We're not kicking you out, love…we just want you to explore…" But he did have someone he wanted to say good bye to, as well as pack his belongings.

The Governess stayed in his room, slowly moving from his cabinets to his bags, taking his time in his packing. He knew that due to his small amount of possessions, he didn't have to worry about taking too long to pack his things, or his amount of luggage. But what he did do was take as much time as possible in order to let the small boy of the house make his way to his room, knocking on the door quietly.

"Arthur…?" came the small voice of the six year old as he stood outside of the door, his fingers tangled deeply with the edge of his night gown, his ever-alert eyes darting back and forth down the hall, hoping his parents wouldn't come across him. Martin had woken up from his nap in the middle of the Spaniard's happy shouts, and due to his tone, the boy knew exactly what had happened… and he was devastated. "Arthur, can I come in…?" He asked quietly and almost immediately, the door swung open to reveal a grief-stricken Governess who looked tired and wary.

"Come in, Martin, quickly now…" Arthur murmured, looking down the hall as well as he ushered the boy into his room. It was still noon, yet it already felt like midnight was creeping upon him, bringing him closer to the day he'd have to meet his new family. As he turned away from the door, he watched as the child ran up to the bed and jumped on top of it, crawling to the middle of the bed. He then plopped down and turned around to face the Governess who was smiling faintly at him. Pulling his knees up, Martin hugged his legs and rested his chin on his knees, looking at the man with a small smile of his own. Arthur made his way to the bed and sat on the edge, one leg on the sheets, the other holding his weight on the floor. He turned his torso to face Martin who was looking at him with critical eyes. They were a soft brown colored, ones that he was able to mix and turn soft. They used to be a hard brown, filled with mischief and deceit, but out of Arthur's hard work, Martin had calmed down wonderfully.

"Arthur?" said the small boy softly, as Arthur replied with a quiet 'hmm?' "Are you leaving?" came the question and the blonde bit his lower lip, trying his best to figure out just how to answer the curious question.

Clearing his throat, he rubbed the back of his neck, sighing softly. He shifted all the way onto the bed so that he was sitting cross legged on the sheets, across from Martin. "Yes…" he uttered softly and he heard the sharp intake of breath come from the small boy. The Governess quickly looked up to give him a reassuring smile. "Don't gasp like that now," he said with a teasing chuckle. "And close your mouth before you catch flies!" he said and Martin quickly clamped his mouth shut, in fear of actually catching the small insects.

"B-But, why?" The brunette had asked with a pout on his angelic face. Arthur could only sigh and run his lithe fingers through his hair.

"Because out there, there is another little boy who is in desperate need of my help." He responded with, speaking in a sullen, melancholy voice. He wasn't sure if Martin would understand, but he sure hoped so.

Fidgeting a bit, the small boy nodded slowly, trying to figure out just who exactly would want to take _his_ Governess away from him. "Does that little boy…" He frowned a bit, staring at the sheets, trying to put his thoughts into words. "Does he really need your help?" He asked quietly, and Arthur hesitated for a second, before nodding. "Oh…" Martin said with a sigh, hugging his own shoulders, still not looking up. "Was he like me? Does he get in trouble a lot?" the little boy asked and Arthur nearly blanched as he thought up the answer. No, Franklin was probably not as good as Martin when he had started governing him, and _yes_, that child got in trouble a lot.

"To some extent…" he ended up murmuring instead, pursing his lips as he watched Martin raise his head, staring at the blonde with shining, brown eyes. Arthur was quick to act, surprised himself. "Oh you sweetheart…" he muttered before quickly reaching out to grab at Martin, gathering him into his lap, and pressing the child's face into his chest. Martin immediately latched on, his small little body shaking as he tried to hold back the tears. Arthur tried his best to keep back his emotions, since he wasn't allowed to grow super attached to his clients. However, with Martin, he had stayed with the family for so long that the small boy might as well have been his own son. He rocked them back and forth on the bed soothingly, rubbing his head and holding him tight in order to reassure him that as of right now, Arthur was still there. "It's okay, it's okay…" he whispered quietly, trying to not let his own voice betray the strong emotions that were stirring inside of him. He hated to admit it, but he himself wanted to cry. He wanted to fall at James' feet and beg not to go to the Jones'. He had come to the realization that not only did he not want to work with Franklin, but that he loved the Pinkertons too much to part with them, Martin definitely included.

"B-but…but you'll n-never…come back!" came the soft wailing of words that were slightly muffled into his shirt, as Martin freely cried into his chest. Arthur swallowed, making sure that he wouldn't speak and his voice would crack.

"Of course I'll come back, silly…" he said with a halfhearted laugh that only ended in some sort of strangled choking sound. He bit his lip, for this really wasn't going well. He could feel the front of his shirt grow a bit damp due to Martin's tears and that made him feel even more regretful for accepting the offer. At the thought of that, he his bitter resentment grew even more towards the Spaniard who was just a few doors down, for he was to be spending the night. "I'll come visit you whenever I have the time." He promised the boy, but both of them were quite aware of how impossible that was going to be. Martin knew that Arthur spent every waking moment around him when he could, and if Franklin was worse, the Governess would have absolutely no free time to even get away from the new boy.

The boy didn't respond, for he was too busy crying, but after a few minutes, the sobs turned into soft whimpers and sniffles, allowing him to raise his head. It revealed a pair of dark, brown eyes, surrounded with red. "Okay…" Martin ended up saying, trying his best to put on a brave front for the man. "Try and visit me…" he pleaded, gripping Arthur's shirt as best as he could. "I want you to visit, so that we can play together again…" he asked and Arthur could do nothing more but weakly smile and nod.

"Of course, love…" he said, wiping away the small child's tears with soft and gentle thumbs, thumbs that have wiped away the tears of many, many children beforehand. "I'll visit you all the time." He said, lying through his promises – and they both knew it. However, they refused to acknowledge it, for they had become best friends.

"Alright…" Martin said, swallowing. He pulled away from the Brit, staring up at him with a small smile. Arthur sighed and smiled in return, patting his head affectionately. Had any of Martin's parents walked in, they would have been horrified by how familiar they were acting with each other, and how Arthur was acting like Martin's parent, and holding him in his lap. "Do you promise?" Asked the small boy again, holding out his fist with his pinky finger extended. Arthur stared at it, knowing that it was an actual promise. There were no guarantees that Arthur would _ever_ have the time to see his ex-host family again, and yet here Martin was, naïve and pleading for a promise. Arthur never broke promises.

Hooking the two pinkies together, the two males smiled at each other, yet there was sorrow at the corners of their eyes and lips. "I promise."

The next morning was a flurry of activities. Apparently it was a lot harder than expected to just hire a Governess and go. Since Arthur wasn't being properly released back to the company he worked at, and was instead being 'handed over', so to speak, Sir James had to find various amounts of documents that entitled the job over to the Jones. The Governess himself was suspicious, for the actual Jones family had no appearance in this whatsoever. Of course, Antonio was to be trusted since he was of the Queen's guard…but did his friendship with the Viscount mean that this was the Viscount's business, or the Queen's business?

There were simply too many questions, and Arthur was leaving in an hour.

"Good bye, good bye!" came the chorus of voices from atop of the steps of the Pinkerton's house. Arthur himself was too busy trying to fight back insults aimed at the Spaniard's head for the fact that they were still in the presence of his host family, and their precious son. Arthur turned, his hand already gripping the outside railing of the carriage, one foot propped on to the step, and before he could say his own good bye, a small body barreled right into his stomach, causing him to cough and nearly choke.

"B-Bloody hell!" he cried out, only to have Antonio whack him upside the head from inside the carriage.

"Watch your language, mi amigo, you have a child in your hands." He scolded. Oh, was that man _dead._

But Martin merely grinned and looked up with his ever-smiling face, hugging Arthur tightly around his small waist. "I'm going to miss you." He chirped enthusiastically, and Arthur chuckled, reaching down to ruffle his head affectionately.

"Are you now?" He teased, watching surprise flicker on Martin's face as he countered his words. "Are you really going to miss me? Are you quite sure you and your family won't throw a splendid ball just in honor of my presence being cleansed from your house?" He said with amusement dancing in his eyes, ever growing due to the fact that Martin looked even more distressed.

"W-What?!" the young boy cried, hugging him tighter to try and prove his point that he wasn't like that. "Of course not! We'll hold a memorial! Just for you Arthur, so that we never forget you!" he stressed and the Governess couldn't help but to laugh a bit more, nodding and ruffling his hair gently.

"And I believe you. Take care of the house now, and be a good boy for your mum and dad, alright?" He asked him and although Martin quieted down, he had looked sullen again. Nevertheless, he had nodded. Now satisfied, he turned to the heads of the house who had given him all he could ever need. "Thank you." He said sincerely, and their faces were soft as they spoke with warm words.

James spoke first, reaching out to clasp the Brit's hand in a warm handshake. "No," he said. "Thank _you. _For everything that you've done. Thank you for helping us with Martin, and becoming a friend of the family that we can simply not replace." He said and Arthur merely relished in the words of praise. He uttered a soft 'thank you' before turning to Elizabeth.

The woman herself and moved forward, pulling Arthur into a warm, motherly hug that he could do nothing to except accept it. He hugged her back, less tightly, and she pulled away with a bright, yet warm smile. "Oh Arthur…" she breathed, holding him by his arms, squeezing them for a moment before releasing. "What are we to do without you?" She said and Arthur wanted to laugh, but instead stayed silent. "You must come visit again one day, do you hear me?" She asked sternly, and Arthur merely nodded. "We'll invite you to events. You and the Jones. So you must come." She said with a tone of finality, before taking him by the shoulders and turning him around, pushing him gently towards the carriage. "Off you go, then. I pray you find happiness in your new job." She said and Arthur could do nothing but swallow stiffly and nod, climbing into the carriage. Happiness? Maybe. Perhaps. Highly unlikely…But who knew?

The carriage ride was completely silent, save for the sound of the hooves of the horses pounding into the ground. Antonio had tried once to strike up a conversation with the Briton, wanting to tell him how it would be like at the Viscount's home, but Arthur irritatingly said 'I do not wish to talk to you. Leave me be.' And that was the end of any possible friendship that could bloom. Needless to say, when they arrived at the manor, Arthur made sure to grab all of his things as quick as possible, heading towards the front door…_ without_ Antonio.

* * *

When Percy walked into the Viscount's bedroom, Alfred was busy re-fixing his hair. He was half-dreading, half-anticipating the arrival of this new Governess. What would she be like? Was she going to be nice? Strict? Would she be old? Young? It had truly been a rushed decision, as long as a short time limit, so there were many questions that crowded around the mind of the Viscount, and many of them were not going to be able to be answered by 'client reviews' that he could have so easily accessed. Instead, he would just meet the Governess herself, and see just how good of a woman this would be for Martin. He didn't _not_ trust Antonio. In fact, he trusted the Spaniard very well. That was one of the reasons why he agreed to having a Governess so frivolously. Antonio wouldn't let him down, especially on a topic that had to deal with Franklin. Both of them were trying very hard to help the child…but apparently it wouldn't work. So when Antonio suggested hiring a Governess, Alfred was all for it.

The butler had politely informed the Viscount that the Governess had arrived, along with Antonio. They were apparently in the parlor, waiting, and Alfred gave him a polite smile, bobbing his head in thanks. He glanced back at the large mirror and fixed the small slick of hair, letting it continue to stick upright. It was his trademark…his sign. His…his _thing,_ to be put in lesser words.

Stepping out of the room, he made his way to the parlor, with Percy behind him. As they stepped inside, he saw two different pairs of two different types of green look up to him. One was light and somewhat mellow, shaded by a lovely tan face. The second were burning and were filled with many different emotions – his eyes were as open as a book. Alfred was a bit shocked, did Arthur really have that green of eyes? The Spaniard stood up quickly, most likely about to introduce the man, but Alfred stepped in and interjected, for he already _knew_ this man. It was just…where was his wife?

"Ah, Sir Kirkland!" He greeted enthusiastically, watching as confusion flickered once more through the eyes of Arthur, as he stood up, looking a bit dazed. They shook hands and the Viscount shook the other's strongly, causing the other man to look a bit more shaken. "How nice of it to meet you again, especially with my friend here, Knight Carriedo." He said warmly.

Arthur was a bit peeved, for he had no idea why the Viscount had called him 'sir' once more. Didn't he know he was a Governess? Isn't that why he was hired? To Govern? And yet here the man was, not using the right title. _Antonio_ was the Sir. Not him. "Ah, yes, yes indeed…" he muttered a bit, trying not to let his arm dislocate itself due to Alfred's insanely strong grip. "How fantastic, yes." He glanced a bit at the knight that stood off to the side, giving him a look that read 'I don't understand. For some reason this feels off.' Yet to his surprise, the look that Antonio gave said the exact same thing.

Alfred had immediately launched into more words despite the two's quick glance. "My god, has it only been a day or two since the ball? It must seem horrible to mention but I hardly recognize you!" he said with his famous Viscount grin. He could immediately see the red that appeared just above Arthur's suit collar. Was he truly surprised? "But regardless, it truly is such an honor to be in your presence again, and I hope the sentiments go the same way." He mused lightly turning to Antonio when Arthur was too speechless to even reply. "And you, friend, thank you for bringing the Kirklands all this way in order for me to organize this job." Antonio simply nodded, although his brows were knitted tightly together, as he was already guessing what was wrong in this room.

Turning back to Arthur, the Viscount reached out to clasp one of his shoulders in a friendly manner, thoroughly startling the Governess. "W-Wha…?" he ended up spluttering in an undignified manner and Alfred laughed.

"You know, I was actually expecting you to come here for this as well." He said and at his side, Arthur was ridiculously confused. Yet the Viscount went on. "However, I'd like to keep it away for no longer. Where might be your wife?" He inquired, curiously. He looked around the room for any sign of a woman, the woman that would be taking care of his son. He had released the Brit's shoulder in order to take a better look around, spinning on his heel. "Has she gone to the lavatory?" he asked and he turned back to Arthur, only to see an expression of extreme shock. "What…" he started off, brows furrowing together, and he was about to go on when Antonio quickly jumped in.

"Alfred?" He said, concern written on his face.

"What is wrong… why does he look surprised?" Alfred had demanded, feeling immediately uneasy by the entire situation.

"Alfred." Antonio repeated again, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder, which wasn't removed. "I thought you had met him already." He said, and the Viscount nodded his head vigorously, still confused. "But don't you know who this is?" the Spaniard asked and Alfred was growing irritated.

"What? Sir Arthur Kirkland? His wife is who I'm to be hiring, correct?" He asked, and both the men in front of him blanched.

Antonio rubbed the back of his neck, sighing deeply. "No…" he said, shaking a still-speechless Arthur. "We're not waiting for his wife. This is Arthur Kirkland…_Governess_ Arthur Kirkland." He finally clarified.

The American Viscount was extremely stunned, just by those few words. He was suddenly speechless himself, staring at wide green eyes that stared right back at him. Governess? This man? He was a GOVERNESS?

"But…" he trailed off in confusion. "He's a man?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Ahhh! Chapter 2, finished… God, it seriously does take a lot of time and effort to make this into what it is now…However, I do hope you guys are currently enjoying it.

TL;DR: Alfred breaks the news to Franklin about the new Governess, and Franklin basically flips out. Then the chapter focuses on Arthur and how Antonio tries to get him to take the job on. Couple of attempted feels with the Pinkertons, and then…voila~

Sorrynotsorry that I prolonged the dialogue between Alfred and Arthur even more. I just felt like Arthur deserved a little bit of spot light. And…apparently Antonio. But regardless, the next chapter will basically just be centered around the Jones' and their new guest. :3

I hope you liked this chapter, and with the end of the year coming, I'll try my best to get the third one in quickly enough D:

Thanks to my beta: **of the Grigori**, because you are fantastic and amazing and all sorts of really nice adjectives! :3

Rates and Reviews make a VERY happy author. 3

BunniDomi


	4. Chapter 3

**~Chapter 3: Arguments and Prejudice, Topped With A Little Bit of Mud~**

Arthur was now currently in a situation that was the exact definition of the word 'awkward.' 'Awkward. Causing or feeling embarrassment or inconvenience.' Yes, this was truly awkward. Ever since their 'fateful' encounter in the parlor with Alfred calmly requesting that he and Arthur hold a meeting in his office, he had then found himself to be sitting on one of the chairs that was set across the Viscount's desk. They had been silent. Completely silent. For about… ten, straight minutes. The blonde nobleman had simply sat himself down on his chair, leaned back, crossed his legs then crossed his arms. Blue, analytical eyes stared right at the Briton, most likely judging him for all he was worth. Well then. It wasn't _Arthur's_ fault that SOMEONE wasn't paying attention to introductions. In fact, if the Viscount had actually bothered to learn who Arthur was in society, then he would've dealt with this moment at the ball. And not only that, but it would have been a lot LESS awkward because that was a social ball. Not a job employment.

Sometime during the extensive silence, the Governess wondered just how much of a surprise it was to the Viscount that his new employee was male. Then again, was Arthur going to be able to keep the job and _become_ the 'new employee'? It was hard to say. Alfred's expression was unreadable. He sat there with a blank face and eyes that were merely studying him for all he was worth. It was starting unnerve the Governess. What was he thinking? _'Does he think I'm not good enough? Hell, I probably am not… The man didn't even know I was a male until he saw me! That would be a big enough shock for anyone!' _Arthur's mind was racing, jumping to conclusions as well as severely doubting everything. He made sure that no family ever hired him without knowing all of the possible details about him. Male. Twenty-two. Good Governess. Plenty of good reviews from previous families. And… if they _really_ wanted to know… then, Homosexual. Of course, usually he was rejected on the spot by just the word 'male.' Proper families wanted 'proper' Governesses and Arthur was apparently not 'proper' enough. Then, if they weren't already perturbed by his gender, then the title of homosexuality turned them away even quicker. His host families truly depended on the reviews and recommendations of the other Governesses, as well as the family's slightly-less-lax lifestyle.

Also, the more understanding the family was in hiring him, then the more generous and compassionate they were in general. Arthur tended to always get nice families – a fact that he was not complaining about whatsoever. And though they seemed to be quite rare, the Brit simply took whatever came by with open arms.

Yet there he was, sitting across from one of the most famed noblemen in England…who had no idea what he was getting himself into. What was Arthur supposed to do? He was of lesser stature, and due to their unfamiliarity, he was unable to speak up as he would have with Sir James. That would've been unacceptable, and he would have been most likely thrown out. Not that he would've really cared, of course, seeing that he'd head straight for the Pinkertons again and curse a certain Spaniard along the way. However, before the Governess could gather up his courage and even emit a small cough for attention, (not that he didn't have any; the Viscount's eyes had never strayed once from him) the blue-eyed man spoke up, his voice brisk and with a no-joke tone.

"So you are a Governess." Came the words, more of a statement than a question. The Briton blinked at first then almost sighed in exasperation. Was that the best question the Viscount could come up with after so many long minutes of waiting silence? Nevertheless, it was not exactly his place to say otherwise, and all he did was frown slightly, and nod his head slowly, uttering a clear 'Yes.' The Viscount nodded just as slowly, and silence immediately sank back above them, as the nobleman's face portrayed nothing else but judgment. Arthur was growing impatient. He was fidgety and tired, and sitting in this chair being mentally examined was going to give him a headache. He cursed the world's rules for not allowing him to speak up, and all he was able to do was turn his head away to stare out the window just behind the man's head. Might as well not even bother looking, if he wasn't going to speak.

But more words came once more, and the Viscount cleared his throat and shifted position, causing Arthur's eyes snap right back at him. "Why?" Was the question next asked.

Arthur was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, this Viscount was more of an idiotic prat – pray he never say that out loud – due to the man's short and blunt questions. Why did he have to explain his story? He was a Governess because he wanted to be. _That's it._ Why waste one's time on asking for the reason behind someone's occupation? They had chosen to work that way because they wanted to. Simple as that. "Because I have always enjoyed helping and aiding children in their young and growing years." He replied almost immediately, the answer being too automatic for his own good. It was one that he repeated to almost everyone who asked, and that wasn't a friend. That was all they needed to know.

At the answer, the Viscount nodded again, this time putting his fingers to his lips, his elbow still propped up against the arm rest. "Interesting." He murmured under his breath, but it was loud enough to be heard from both parties, causing Arthur to raise an eyebrow.

"Is the work of a Governess really that interesting, sir?" he retorted, then regretted it immediately, for the small amount of sass had leaked out into his voice. He could feel his neck heat up in shame and he was about to quickly bow and utter an apology when Alfred shrugged, as if he didn't even notice the rudeness.

"Not necessarily." He said, not smiling, yet not frowning. Alfred merely tilted his head to the other side, still studying the Briton who had resorted to letting out a small 'A-Ah?' in response. "It is more of the fact that I have a _male_ Governess in my room, rather than a female one, that is interesting."

Arthur blinked once more, mentally surprised that he wasn't being reprimanded. However, he had detected the sense of sarcasm underneath the Viscount's words, causing the frown to twitch further down on his lips. "Oh, my deepest apologies, Viscount," He said back with even more sarcasm to boot, seeing the man's eyebrow raise. "That I am not of the 'proper' lot of Governesses, who, yes indeed, are all female." This time, Arthur bit his tongue harshly in order to mentally scold himself at speaking out again.

"I never said that there was a proper, nor improper lot for Governesses…" the Viscount had said, trailing off a bit in confusion. He wasn't an idiot, and it was quite obvious that Arthur was getting very riled up, though he didn't show it. Why? Alfred was merely asking questions. Harmless questions, actually. He had really only said eight words.

The only problem with being a sarcastic asshole at heart was the fact that once Arthur got started, he kept going until he had proven his point. "Oh no, of course not." He all but spat, levelling with the Viscount's surprised look with his own of irritation. "But any _proper_ English nobleman would only want the best of the best, and although I won't deny that I have great skill in what I do, I am not female, and therefore, I don't fit in your image of a 'proper Governess.'" He spoke back with bitterness lacing his voice. The Governess was honestly quite surprised that he hadn't been hit yet. Perhaps that was coming next.

The Viscount was taken aback; however, and he stared at the Governess who dared to speak so openly with him. Were all Governesses in England like this? He wouldn't have known. He had never hired one. Yet here was this _male_ Governess who continued to yell at him as if they were familiars. Which…he supposed that they somewhat were, but now, in this situation and setting, it was as if they were complete strangers. But one thing did strike a growing sense of frustrating curiosity in the Viscount's mind and he all but slammed his hand on his desk. It wasn't out of anger, but instead out of regaining back order. "Excuse me." He barked, and the blonde before him immediately closed his mouth, though his eyes remained to steam. "Is it a common thing for respect to be lacking in the attitudes of Governesses?" he said with a voice of irritation, and he watched as Arthur's face heated up a slight red in indignation.

"I'm sorry si-" was Arthur's attempted reply, yet that was quickly cut off due to the Viscount's own rant.

"And what is all of this talk on 'proper' and 'improper' and 'proper Governesses' and whatnot?" Exclaimed the Viscount exasperatedly. "Have you taken a _look_ at my family as of late?" he argued, and the Governess could not do anything more but to nod his head in a bit of confusion. "My wife had left me for some pathetic excuse for a man, my son has grown wild, and I have been forced to attend balls and look for women discreetly just so that I could fix my family's name and find a mother for Franklin!" The man breathed deeply, rubbing his face tiredly with his hand, for just the _thought_ of all that made him instantly tired. "I don't give a single damn whether or not you're proper." The Viscount continued. "As long as you are true to what you say, and you can help guide my son down the right path." He had said, looking up with serious, grave eyes.

During the entire exclamation, Arthur watched and listened attentively for it was about time that the Viscount started talking and telling the Governess what this entire fiasco was about. The blonde Brit had still held on to the fact that one day, Alfred would have to apologize for basically dragging him away from his previous job. "My apologies, sir…" Arthur said quietly, bowing his head just a bit out of expected respect. "I was not thinking when I spoke to you and I apologize for speaking so brashly." Said the Brit, raising his head in order to look into light blue ones that stared at him so intensely; it was as if they were staring into his soul.

With a nod, Alfred thinned his lips, setting his hands back down onto the desk, recomposing his face and emotions. "Your apology has been accepted." He said, and Arthur mentally sighed in relief as he uttered a soft 'thank you.' "However, it still strikes me a question on what you mean by 'proper' and 'improper.'" Said the Viscount, his brows knitted in confusion. "Is it because you are a man?" He went on, "A man with the job of a woman? By the looks of it, it seems that you don't particularly mind. However, perhaps I'm wrong, and you are unsatisfied with your current occupation." Mused the blonde man thoughtfully, trying to pinpoint what was going on in Arthur's head.

"U-Unsatisfied, sir?!" Exclaimed the Briton, genuinely surprised at the notion. "No, of course not." He said with a frown, shaking his head in earnest. "I enjoy this job and the opportunities that come along with it. My gender, I have prayed, should have nothing to do with the fact that I myself enjoy teaching children inside their homes, rather than in a school." He saw the man's eyebrow raise and he pressed on. "My bringing up of the topic of properness didn't come out of spite towards you, Viscount." He said sincerely, feeling a bit awkward with this whole situation in general. _If only _they had gotten over with this at the ball… "It's just that usually, before someone hires me, they look into my biographies and such, and the first thing that ever comes up informational-wise is that I am a male. I had assumed that before you hired me, you knew of who I was, and what I am." He said, his hands and fingers twitching over each other in unease. It was always hard to explain things to noblemen. They either believed you, or they didn't.

"I see…" said Alfred quietly, nodding when Arthur told his story at reasons. "Yes, I understand your immediate caution, then." He said. Suddenly, the grave and serious look that was upon the Viscount's face during the entire conversation melted away to reveal an apologetic smile that not only reached his eyes, but crinkled the corners of them, revealing his laugh lines. His blue irises glinted behind his glasses and he let out a soft, deep chuckle. "I must apologize myself, then…" He murmured. "For I honestly had no idea who you were. When I returned home that night after the ball, Franklin had found himself in trouble once more, and Antonio had advised me to hire a Governess. He knew one that he said was at the ready, and I was too irritated to even think on it, so I let him go do as he pleased. I had not imagined it would've been you of all people, or that Antonio would bring home a man." Alfred said, his expression now one of understanding and sympathy.

If Arthur wasn't already blown away by the Viscount's intimidation, then he definitely was when a smile appeared on his face. It wasn't the one that he saw at the ball. No, if he tried to remember, it looked like one of plaster. A smile to wear when there were people to impress. This wasn't that smile. Instead, as the Viscount was _apologizing,_ this was a smile of genuine sympathy and sorry.

It kind of stunned the Governess into temporary silence.

"O-Oh, is that so?" Stammered Arthur, after he was able to regain his voice. Alfred's smile was distracting, for they complimented his eyes. Gripping his hand on the arm rest next to him subtly, his returned the Viscount's smile with a small one of his own. _'Damn my homosexual urges...'_ Was the only thing that ran through his mind. There was no doubt that he saw the Viscount as handsome. Gorgeous, in fact. However, just because he was mind blowing attractive didn't mean that Arthur would set his heart for him once and for all. Plus, the man was straight, and was looking for a wife, and was a noble… and well…A lot of things.

"Well. If you must also know, I was currently employed to Sir James and Elizabeth of Pinkerton, governing their young child Martin, when he barged in at an unruly hour of six in the morning, and demanded I work for you." Arthur recollected smoothly, watching the Viscount's face contort into one of pure horror and panic. He continued on before the man even had a chance to speak, for the expressions Alfred was making were really quite amusing. "And not only did he ask me once, in the middle of Franklin's Italian lesson, but he asked again. _Four times._" He stressed with a look of complete calm and suave. He mentally congratulated him for holding on to his cool expression for so long.

"Oh god, he did WHAT?!" cried the Viscount, jumping up from his chair in shock, staring at the Governess who was simply sitting down without a single care in the world. "For God's sake, that IDIOT!" he all but shouted, walking around the desk to stand before Arthur, a look of pure guilt in his eyes; evident on his face. "My deepest, _deepest_ apologies for his actions, Arthur. I truly thought he was speaking the truth, when he said you were ready to work." He said shaking his head.

The Briton nearly snickered, but he refrained that in order to look as if it didn't bother him. A nobleman standing before him, while he sat. Well. _This_ was definitely interesting, and he had no intention of changing it just yet. "Don't worry, it truly is fine. However, it was a bit of a hassle whenever he popped out of nowhere to try and verbally drag me away again…" he said with a dramatic sigh, turning his head off to the side just a bit.

The Viscount's frown deepened, for a new irritation had appeared in his chest, and this time it was aimed solely at his best friend. "I will talk to him right away, I assure you." He promised the Governess with sincerity. "And I shall make plans to return you to the Pinkertons immediately." He said, the serious expression back on his face as he had already started making plans on how to temporarily ruin Antonio's life.

"Return?" The Governess had blinked and repeated, turning his head back immediately to look up at Alfred. He was to return? Go back? Wait – the Viscount was willing to give him back after ALL the effort Antonio took in to get him OVER here?

Arthur might have been an ass, but he wasn't a _total_ ass.

"I have no intention in returning, Viscount." Arthur had said, his own brows furrowing as he stood up to stand before the taller man. He watched as the Viscount's face took on an expression of confusion, once again, another expression he noted of.

"I don't understand," protested Alfred. "I had ordered you to be forcibly removed from your previous job, a mistake that cannot be easily forgiven. I simply must bring you back."

Arthur then took on an expression of sheepishness, a small ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he shook his head. "No, no. I was simply telling you of how Antonio had recruited me." He said, noting that the expression on the Viscount's face hadn't changed. "Sir, your son is quite the gossip and rumor among us Governesses." He told him, and he wasn't surprised when Alfred's face hardened a bit. Of course the Viscount knew. His son was the gossip everywhere. However, he didn't like that thought at all.

"I'm aware." The nobleman said with a bit of harshness in his tone. What, did Arthur gossip about his son as well? The Viscount had no intention of asking what it was they said about Franklin exactly, but either way, it wasn't the nicest fact to know that people were talking bad things about his son behind his back.

"Yes, well, he is also the subject of earnest." Arthur went on, turning the fact around. At the company, they were all definitely eager of course…eager to NEVER work for the Jones family. However, the Viscount really didn't need to know that detail. "Many of us work for families with…difficult…children, and sometimes we succeed, and sometimes we fail. I promise you no offense intended when I say that Franklin is one of these boys that we have heard of that is quite difficult." He said cautiously, watching Alfred regretfully nod. "Therefore, I am all but honored at the chance of being able to work with such a boy, and help him with all my ability. The boy and his family that I had just left were achievements of mine, for Martin Pinkerton has turned into the son that his parents had always dreamed of. Thus, I am eager to work with you and Franklin, if you'll give me the chance."

Arthur's explanation was received by attentive ears and a face that gradually turned from serious to surprise. The Viscount was indeed impressed by the Governess' words and it had struck curiosity within him, whether or not Arthur would be able to achieve success with Franklin, when he as the father, had not. "I see." Said Alfred, crossing his arms, nodding thoughtfully. "You seem to be quite eager to work with my son, indeed." He said, and before him, Arthur nodded, albeit a bit slowly. "Do you really believe you will be able to work with him and make him cooperate?" Asked the Viscount bluntly, still curious on the Brit's determination.

"Yes." Replied Arthur, his expression saying that he was ready to take on anything. "I truly believe that with time, I'll be able to help Franklin Jones."

"Good, then." The Viscount said, starting to walk forwards to towards the door. "Come with me. I shall take you to see him. However, I'd prefer if you had a…test run, with him." Said the Viscount, holding open the door. "A test, per say. For both you and I to see if you are capable."

Arthur walked towards the door, speaking a thank you as he stepped out into the hallway. "A test, sir." He repeated, trying to imagine just what kind of test would be happening. As Alfred let the way down towards his son's room, he watched as the man's blonde head nodded.

"Correct. Fail, and we'll take you home to the Pinkertons. Pass, and you shall start today."

* * *

It was silent, save for the quiet '_whish'_ of the window curtains that were swaying lightly in the breeze. The window itself was open, revealing the soft smell of spring time flowers, and sunlight that filled the room. The ambiance was soft and serene, as the light blue painted room was decorated to look just as cheerful as any other. The bed was already made and the desk was clutter-free. Near the corner of the room stood a brass cage that held three sunshine yellow canaries, chirping around happily. It was open and spacious, enough to fit in more than just a single six year old boy. However, that was also the thing.

Inside the sunshine room, there was no six year old boy.

Instead, there was pure evidence that someone had stripped his bed of all possible linen and tied them together by the corners to create on very long rope. One end was knotted around the foot of the bed and the rest was flung out of the window. If one had looked over, it would've shown a makeshift rope, blowing gently on the wind, leading right down into the garden maze that was underneath Franklin's window.

There were three men in the room, and each had on a different expression, wielding a different reaction as well. Percy was standing by the door way, a look of weariness on his face. This wasn't exactly the first time Franklin had pulled of a stunt like this…however, he had not done it often enough for the manor staff to get used to. The butler was extremely concerned and due to the fact that there was no body on the ground, he was immensely relieved that Franklin hadn't fallen. He stood by, awaiting orders for he knew that the new Governess…Governor? Was here, and it was most likely predictable that Alfred would send the man off to find him instead.

Next was the Viscount father himself, who was standing in the middle of the room, one of his hands planted on his face. It hid an expression of disappointment, frustration and worry, for the fact that his only son had willingly _climbed_ out of a window, two stories from the ground…and he was SIX years old, for God's sake. The blonde truly wondered where on earth he had inherited his adventurous side. He knew that it didn't just appear due to Charlotte's departure, and that it was in the genes somewhere, or else Franklin wouldn't have simply climbed away. But in a moment of irritation, he blamed it on his ex-wife. If she had the nerve to have an affair for about a year or more, then Franklin had the nerve to scale a house.

Lastly, there was Arthur, the only one who had bothered to make a sound at all. "Oh my GOD, did he climb out of _here_?!" He had exclaimed, rushing to the window and peering down, feeling dizzy just by the height. Arthur was never one for tall places. "I can't see him; he must've run off into the maze…" he muttered, pacing back to the middle of the room, fretting about. "Does he do this often? Is this a normal occurrence?" He had asked, jumping onto a next question before either the butler or the Viscount could reply. The Brit wanted to scold Alfred for being such an unwatchful father, but he wasn't James Pinkerton, and was much more famous. Scolding would probably be never. "Someone must find him, he might get hurt! Oh dear, oh dear…" he said, walking back and forth on the plush carpet, his heavy brows furrowing together in concern.

"Sir Kirkland." Stated the Viscount, trying to get the panicking man's attention. However, Arthur was too far off into fretting, and he instinctively ignored the name. But he did snap to attention when Alfred let out a frustrated little huff and walked forward, clasping the Governess' shoulder tightly, stilling his actions. Was the Governess always this…concerned? Was that how they were trained? Or maybe Arthur didn't exactly have a firm grasp on 'drastic' situations such as these.

The Governess himself jumped a bit when a strong, warm hand pressed on his shoulder. With startled eyes, he looked up into the sky blue ones, before dropping them down instantly, bowing his head a bit. "Oh, my apologies, my _apologies_…" he muttered, his hands pressed tight down at his sides. "I didn't mean to act so out of order, I was merely surprised and I didn't expect that a child would have the nerve and bravery to do something such as this. I promise it won't happen again!" said Arthur, gritting his teeth. He should've watched his actions, and he should've been careful of his tongue. At this rate, he will never be able to get the job. And if he did, there probably wouldn't be as much trust between him and the parent…it always happened that way.

There was a momentary silence coming from the Viscount, who held on a face and expression of confusion. Percy had slipped away, intending to work on tonight's dinner, and the two were left. One was bowing in respect, the other with one hand on Arthur's shoulder, still looking at him in confusion. Finally, the Viscount opened his mouth, words flowing with a tone of genuine curiosity. "Do all Governesses blather on the way you do?" He asked, pulling his hand away. Crossing his arms, the tall man merely smirked down at the shorter.

"B-Blather?!" came the exclamation, as Arthur whipped his head back up to stare at the Viscount with cheeks heated due to humiliation. No…well. Governesses didn't exactly blather. It truly depended on the person themselves, what kind of socialite they were to be. Some Governesses were cold and strict, speaking conversationally only when needed. Some were warm and parent like, who enjoyed talking to their clients and their children. Arthur was one of these. But…he never thought of it as 'blathering.' "I do _not_ blather!" he protested, a frown quickly alighting on his face. "Is it not human nature to grow concerned when a mere _child_ has taken to climbing out of a window from the second floor? Sir, I was merely worried." He argued.

Raising an eyebrow, the Viscount gradually grew a bit more surprised at how Arthur was so easy to irritate, as well as to snap back at him without a moment's thought. It was obvious that the Briton clearly didn't think before he spoke, and he was quite lucky that Alfred was not a man to kick him out into the street after such harsh words. Nevertheless, Alfred found it extremely intriguing, and he couldn't help but play along. "So then I take it that whenever a child climbs out of the window, you start to hysterically fret and pace around?" He retorted coolly.

A deeper flash of red appeared, followed by the quick words. "Excuse me, sir, but I do not 'hysterically fret' as you so say. Different people have different reactions to problems and I simply grow worried!"

"Then judging by that statement, how do you believe me to be reacting to this problem?" inquired the Viscount. A thought had sparked within him, and he was curious to see how it would go. Due to Arthur's sharp and unfiltered tongue, the answer was sure to be peculiar.

"For the sake of the Queen, are you even REACTING?!" Arthur had all but cried, tempting to throw his hands into the air. The Viscount didn't even seem remotely surprised that his son had disappeared. Was this so often of an occurrence that as a father, he no longer cared? That was a preposterous idea, and one that started to boil Arthur's blood. And due to that anger, every thought remained unfiltered, spilling out of his mouth like a tidal wave. "This is your bloody ONLY SON, and you are merely STANDING there like some prat who couldn't care less about the wellbeing of his child!" he shouted, too focused on his rant to notice Alfred's eyebrows rise in surprise. "He could've bloody _died_ jumping down from here, and we're lucky enough that as a six year old, he has enough sense to make some sort of rope! Unlike his dolt of a father who, instead of running after him in extreme concern, had been standing there like some brainless git who can't differentiate between 'safety' and 'death.' YOU, Viscount Jones, are an awful father, and I am _highly_ disappointed in the way you are treating this situation!" he hissed in an ending.

The Governess was breathing deeply, his words and volume still ringing around the room, his meaning hanging over the pair heavily. His eyes were narrowed deeply so that the green color looked closer to a darker green that emerald. Alfred, on the other hand, was standing still, frozen in shock. Never before….NEVER before, had he ever been yelled at like that. Even with his own parents as a child, he was a spoiled American boy who enjoyed leeching off of his parents for money to buy the latest toy on the market. Even in his growing years, bullies had avoided him, knowing that he could set his father onto them if they ever bothered to pester him. Yes, Alfred was quite the silver-fed man. Yet here was this new man, that he had truly only met for a couple of hours, not even a day, and he was yelling obscenities at his face as if they were not only familiars, but as if Arthur was his boss. Which he _wasn't_. So finding the nerve to do that was incredible, and judging by Arthur's train of thought, it was all due to his unfiltered mouth.

It only took less than a minute for Arthur's actions to take effect on him, as he realized what he had done, and just what he had said. Stumbling backwards just a bit, his red face had immediately turned pale, and he trembled a bit. He was going to get beaten. He was going to lose his job. He was going to be shamed in the public for ever even _thinking_ those things, let alone say them to the man's face himself. "I'm so-"

"Prat…" said the Viscount suddenly, regaining his words before Arthur could. The Governess, not wanting to cause any more trouble, had immediately fallen silent instead, allowing the man to deal out any punishment needed. His apology was no longer valid, it seemed. "Dolt. Git." The Viscount continued his words, and he looked off to the side as he did it, an unreadable expression on his face. On the other hand, Arthur's was one of purse confusion.

"W-What…?" the Governesses ended up saying lamely, before scolding himself for letting his tongue slip once more.

Turning his head back up to face the shorter, blonde man, Alfred held up three fingers. "Prat." He wiggled his index finger. "Dolt." Then went the middle. "And git." He said, waving his ring finger. "The three, ruder insults." The Viscount said calmly, watching as Arthur's face grew even paler than was humanly possible. "If you're counting the times you said bloody in my face, then it'd be two." He lowered his hand. "Then, there's also calling me an awful father." He added on at the end, crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto one foot as he stared at Arthur with intense eyes.

"Sir…" choked out the Governess, his thoughts scrambling around in his head as he tried to find any sort of explanation. He felt panic overcome his senses, and he wasn't sure what to say anymore.

"Do you speak like this in front of the children?" Continued Alfred, raising an eyebrow. If Arthur was one to swear this much before young children, then the Viscount would have told him to start immensely reevaluating his life decisions. However, he tilted his head a bit to the side, waiting for an answer as Arthur violently shook his head no.

"Of course not, Sir." He said in a strained voice, trying to make amends to his actions by being compliant. It was hard, of course, because he truly did think that Alfred was a daft git. However, he was certain he lost the job. But that didn't mean he wanted to lose his entire career. He prayed that Alfred would show some compassion, and not destroy his reputation among the company. "I treat the children with the love and respect they deserve…" he mumbled.

With critical eyes, the Viscount continued to look over Arthur once more, trying to find out his secret. It was like a flare, of some sort. Fire and passion would leak out in the most extraordinary way, which threw Alfred off guard by the Governess' words. But then, it would immediately hide itself away again, coated with respect and servitude. He wasn't sure, but it seemed to slightly irk the man. "Good." He said with a curt nod, and he restrained a snicker as he saw Arthur's head snap up in surprise at the praise. There was no doubt that the Brit was waiting for punishment, when instead, Alfred had praised him for his restrain on curse words around children. "As for your test, you are to go into the gardens and find him. Bring him back in time for supper, if you can." He stated with a tone of finality, and walked towards the door, leaving a shocked Governess behind him. At the entrance of the room, he stopped and turned back, giving the Governess another quick nod, although he looked off to the side as he spoke. "Your words are not….wrong." He said slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "However…just remember to refrain from calling me a prat, dolt, or git in front of my child, if you please." He finished quickly then slipped out of the door way, leaving Arthur alone.

* * *

Arthur's mind was in a whirlwind, for a thousand of thoughts were flying everywhere in his head. He couldn't for the life of him understand what the Viscount was thinking. The Governess had insulted him on a level of public punishment, yet Alfred had acted as if he had simply said something mildly strange. THEN, he proceeded to commencing Arthur's test, and leaving him to find his way around the house towards the door that led to the gardens. (Thank god for Percy.) Nevertheless, he was extremely grateful that the Viscount hadn't done anything else to him. He vaguely wondered if there'd be a punishment later. However, that seemed impossible, since Alfred trusted him to find his own son, in a garden maze he had no idea how to navigate through. It was only when Arthur passed by the exact same dog statue next to a bird bath did he regret not bringing some sort of string to help him return back to the entrance.

It wasn't a menacing garden whatsoever, to be honest. Sunlight was everywhere and cast a glow among the roses that dotted the tall bushes. Birds flitted around above his head, their songs casting an aura of comfort in the spring time air. There were also small spots and hidden areas that held benches and vine-wrapped gazebos for anyone who wanted to rest their feet. Of course, it was obviously meant as an oasis for people who knew how to get around the maze in general. There was no point in trying to 'solve' the maze, for if he did, then he would've lost the point in coming in. He was there to find Franklin, and for the first time in a long time, Arthur felt _extremely _frustrated.

It had been about an hour already since Arthur first entered the maze, and the afternoon sun was beating against his back. He relished in walking nearer to the actual bushes, for their tall forms cast a shadow that he used to avoid the bright rays. So far, Franklin was absolutely nowhere to be found, but Arthur couldn't take that to valediction since it had also turned out that the Governess was walking in circles. And judging by the view from Franklin's room window, the maze was large. Very large.

"Blast it all to hell; let the angels atone for my sin!" Cried Arthur as he stopped for the time being, slumped down on a stone bench. It was a curse that he had heard Sir James use once before, when the man had been too busy with work that he had forgotten his wife's birthday. Needless to say, his sins were atoned for, but definitely not by the angels. "I haven't even met the child yet and already he is to be the death of me…" The Briton had sighed dejectedly, a frown on his lips as he forced himself up to his feet again, intent on starting down the path once more. However, before he could take another step, a scurrying sound was heard inside of the bushes to his side and he immediately tensed, taking a step back. It was a small flurry of dark blue and gold before the object stilled in front of him, right in the middle of the path he was to take.

Franklin William Jones wore a killer charming smile – one that Arthur could pinpoint anywhere. It spelled out so many different words, and the two main ones clashed horribly. It was the smile of an 'innocent demon.' His gold hair was threaded with leaves and small twigs, setting off a rough vibe about him, if it weren't for his clothes and smile. Dark blue eyes seemed to swirl around in their sockets, mesmerizing Arthur just as it had done many others. It was quite obvious that Franklin's 'cute charm' was an understatement. Thin limbs of arms were clasped behind his back, and it was a miracle that his clothes weren't smudged with a large amount of dirt. The small cravat that he was supposed to wear along with his suit jacket was hanging off limply, undone and crumpled, and the dark blue suit jacket that was most likely the pair of his dark blue trousers was missing as well. He was left in a simple polo, yet that was crumpled as well. His trousers had been rolled up to the knees, and as Arthur looked down, he noticed that Franklin was shoeless and sockless, leaving him to run in bare feet amongst the dirt, grass and stone. If Franklin didn't have the background of an uncontrollable child, and was instead seen on the streets of England just outside of Arthur's apartment, well. He almost looked… _normal._

"Lookin' for me?" Franklin asked sweetly, politeness dripping from his voice that it so badly concealed the obvious sarcasm and spite behind his words.

Arthur was surprised, though. Of course, it was to be expected that due to Franklin's upbringing in England, he'd speak like the British. However, his American accent was so prominent in his voice that the Governess could merely squint in disbelief and stare down at the American boy in front of him. He looked just like his father, save for the eyes, and Arthur started to seriously wondered if Franklin had gotten that grin from his father, and what it would look like on the Viscount himself.

"I know who ya are." Stated the boy, crossing his arms and standing up straight, his feet just slightly spread apart on the grass underneath him. "At least…I think I do."

Quickly being pulled from his reverie, Arthur straightened up as well and looked at him curiously, raising an eyebrow. It was never good to start off a child-Governess relationship by being the first one to seem intimidating. The child always started off. "Do you now?" He mused; leaving his hands limp at his sides. If he clasped them behind his back, then Franklin would take it that he was being talked down to, and that never turned out nicely. "We haven't even met yet, how do you know who I am?" inquired Arthur with a small smile, clearly amused by the boy's efforts in seeming menacing. _'So far, so good…'_ The Brit thought to himself. _'Nothing I can't handle…yet.'_

"That doesn't matter!" protested Franklin, his brows furrowing to settle into a deep pout. "Papa was saying that he was going to be getting me a new mother. He said she was coming today." He said coldly, glaring at Arthur a bit more, but as the boy continued to stare at Arthur, his expression of intimidation faltered and turned into one of unease and confusion. "And you're here today." He said slowly.

"Mm…that's right, I'm here today." Replied Arthur with a wider smile, though in general, it stayed small. "A new mother, though?" He said, pursing his lips and 'tsking' lightly. "That sounds truly dreadful, doesn't it? I would absolutely hate it if my own father brought in a new mother…" He murmured then watched as Franklin's face grew hard and stormy.

With a little growl at the back of his throat, Franklin's eyes narrowed themselves again and he glared with more intensity than previously. "Stop talking like that. Who are you anyways?" He said, his hands clenching into defensive fists as he let them down at his sides. "I was supposed to receive a Governess today. Who are you?" he demanded in question, and watched incredulously as Arthur proceeded to chuckle slightly.

"Well, Sir Franklin Jones. It's quite the pleasure to meet you." Arthur had said, bowing his head slightly, politely. "I hope that we can work well together, for I'm Arthur Kirkland, and I'm to be your new Governess." He said, straightening back up with a bright smile. Glad that so far, nothing _terrible_ had happened, the Governess stuck out his hand in order to shake Franklin's, allowing the boy to feel older and more 'in control' of the situation. However, just as he vaguely expected, the Viscount's copy looked stricken at the introduction.

"Governess?!" He cried out, taking a step back with horror in his eyes. "But you're a…a GUY." He blurted out, causing a vein to twitch in Arthur's forehead.

"Yes, indeed I am, thank you for pointing out the obvious." Arthur snapped back in reply, pulling his hand away. "But my gender doesn't depict my skills. I will govern for you, granted your father gives me the job." He said, adding that last bit with a tone of desperation. "Now come, Franklin, for dinner is almost ready and your father would prefer to see you at the table tonight." He said, sticking a hand out once more for the small boy.

Franklin pulled away even more, his glare deepening. "I don't wanna eat." He said stubbornly, and darted back towards the bushes. Making a desperate move to try and catch him, Arthur lunged forward, his arms embracing air. The boy had already disappeared back into the roses, God knows how he was able to survive the thorns.

"For God's sake!" he cried, childishly stomping a foot on the grass beneath him as he rubbed his face with his hand hastily. "Franklin William Jones, come out here RIGHT this instant, or so help me God, I will set your father on you!" he yelled at the bushes, but he knew that the threat was empty. He didn't even have to guess that due to the Viscount's lax ways, Franklin had resulted in this behavior. Silence met his words, save for the occasional chirping of birds, and he couldn't help but let out another frustrated huff. "FRANKLIN." He yelled out in irritation, whirling around to repeat yelling the name to all corners of the maze. "FRANKLIN COME BACK OUT HERE!" he shouted, and as he turned around again, he was met face to face with something cold, sticky and…disgusting. With a gasp, his eyes were immediately closed in order to keep the gloopy substance from entering his eyes and he stumbled back, hands immediately going up to try and wipe whatever it was off. From in front of him, he could hear the sweet voice of the little boy that was to be his eternal damnation.

"Oh, shucks, my bad." Franklin cooed, watching as Arthur stumbled around, face covered in black. "That was the mud pie I wanted to give to you to say sorry." He said with a fake sigh. "Now you messed it all up, but at least you have it." He said with a grin.

Arthur could feel the mud slip down from his face and onto his perfectly nice, _white_, dress shirt. Leaving trails of sludge all over his face and down his clothes, he couldn't even gasp out of fear that more of the mud would get into his mouth. _'THAT CHILD!' _he screamed inside of his head. _'How dare he even have the NERVE to DO that to someone OLDER THAN HIM?'_ What _did _come out of his throat, however, was a small moan of helplessness as he slowly wiped it the mud from his eyes, allowing him to hesitantly blink. When he opened them, Franklin was nowhere to be seen. He was in the process of wiping the horrid substance away from his mouth to allow him to talk, when all of a sudden, his shin received a harsh kick from the back, causing him to stumble forward. Due to the surprise attack, he ended up toppling over completely, spots of dry dirt and grass follicles stuck all over his face. He was thrown into utter surprise, causing him to not do anything for a few seconds except blink with wide eyes at the bottom of the edge to his right. Behind him, he could hear the cackle of a demon child and the sound of bare feet padding on the grass as Franklin ran away.

* * *

It was only after a couple of minutes trying to prevent himself from sitting on a stone garden bench and cursing the child with all his might that the Governess decided to pick himself up and travel back to the house. He walked slowly for the mud had dried miraculously fast, leaving him with a hardened, caked face, and the feeling of sludge drying into rock on his neck and around his mouth. Sure, when dealing with kids, it was all but to be expected that sooner or later, you'd end up with a pair of trousers that had grass stains on it and a white shirt that was now unwearable, but to be greeted in such a fashion was such a disgrace that Arthur was starting to have second doubts on being able to restrain the monstrous boy.

_'Perhaps we were all right in the company.' _ He thought to himself bitterly as he slowly maneuvered his way to his supposed room, as Percy had shown him earlier. _'Franklin is truly a hell of a child. No wonder the Viscount had lost faith in him already…' _He went on, but then actually stopped in his tracks in the middle of the hallway, blinking in surprise at his own thoughts. The servants that passed him all made note to avoid making eye contact, not that Arthur was giving them any anyway. _'That's…it though.' _The Governess thought in sudden revelation. _'His father had given up on him. His mother had given up on them. None of the servants want to deal with him anymore because they've given up. Franklin had turned into a lost cause, with no one to back him up at all…'_ It was then that the blonde Brit put a hand to his mouth, feeling the guilt wash over him like a surge of emotional grief. _'Everyone's given up on him. He thinks there's nowhere to turn…no one to trust…'_ and with hardened eyes, the hand that covered his mouth fell to turn into a fist at his side. "But I won't." He said with a tone of finality. "I _will_ be the one to support Franklin Jones. Damn these pranks to hell, but that boy needs my help!" he all but cried, rushing off to his room.

The servants that were milling around him as he said this exclamation all blinked and paused in their work, turning to stare at him with curious expressions. But it went unnoticed as the Brit had suddenly fled.

Luckily enough, he had only encountered staff people, who didn't really bother with him or question his appearance. He hadn't come across neither the Viscount nor the butler, and for that he was grateful. He supposed that they were both equally as busy as he neared his door, feeling the immediate relief in being able to wash up for good. Pushing open the large, white painted, wooden door, he was met face to face with a simple, yet elegant room… with birds.

Little sunshine yellow canaries flitted around his room chirping incessantly. However, to the Englishman, it sounded like hellish screeching. There were three of them, small enough to look nice, yet big enough to show that there was indeed a mess in his room. One of the birds had even taken the liberty to excrete on top of his writing desk, the little curd hardening up into a disgusting tiny heap of black and white. Arthur stood, gaping, before he finally stumbled backwards out of the room, slamming the door shut. It wasn't that he wasn't fond of birds…but he knew those three canaries just by their appearance. It didn't help that their cage lay in the middle of his room, door open. For it was the same birds and cage he had seen in Franklin's room, just an hour or two prior.

"Governess Kirkland?" came the deep tone of the Viscount from behind him. Said Governess whirled around to face him with wide eyes, and was met with an equally surprised face.

"V-Viscount!" he exclaimed, but then was quickly cut off.

"Good heavens, Arthur, what on earth has happened to you?" said Alfred, furrowing his brows to stare at Arthur, taking in all the mud and dirt that caked his face. The Governess could feel his cheeks heat red in humiliation and embarrassment, but knew that there was no point in hiding it, since the dried mud did that for him.

Shaking his head quickly, he waved a hand to his door. "It was nothing, sir, simply a trip into the flower bush." He said hastily, covering up for Franklin, even though Alfred's expression read that he knew his son was the culprit. "However, there are…birds, in my room." He said lamely, and as if on cue, a small bird had flown near the door on the inside, allowing them both to hear the loud chirping sound of the canary.

"Birds!" repeated the taller blonde, staring at his door incredulously when they heard the chirp. "Why, the only birds in this house are…Franklin's." he said, a face of irritations befalling him once more. Turning his head down to look at Arthur, he was about to clasp his shoulder once more, before hesitation, for there was a large wad of mud on his shoulder. "I'll go find Percy. For now, you may go wash up in the servant's quarters down below." He assured him, then turned promptly to leave, walking swiftly.

Arthur watched the man leave quickly, and without wasting any more time, he left as well. However, he had no plans to wash up just yet. Turning down one corridor, he could see the door of Franklin's room just up ahead, and it was closed shut. There were no servants milling around the area, and Arthur didn't even bother to wonder why. As he stood before the door, he mentally braced himself for the confrontation. He wasn't going to yell anymore, for their introduction was enough for either of them. However, it wasn't always nice to leave some other person in such rude regards. Knocking quietly, he leaned in a bit, hoping that the boy on the other side heard, granted that Franklin was even _in_ his room. "Franklin?" He said, and deciding that it was too quiet to be heard through the thick wooden door, he tried again, and louder. "Franklin?"

It was almost immediately after the second try, did a voice ring out clear as day. "I'm not going to apologize to you, fake-man-mother." came the curt reply, causing the Governess to blink a bit, and step away. Maybe he should've expected something like this to come out of Franklin's mouth. However, he did not.

"Franklin, that's really not-" He then paused, biting his lower lip. The lessons would come when Arthur was for certain that he had gotten the job. Now was simply the time to make peace. "You don't need to apologize, Franklin." He said, speaking quietly, and silence was his only answer. "I merely wanted to talk to you, civilly. That's all."

"How can you talk to me like a civil man if you are working as a woman?" retorted the boy, and Arthur could hear that Franklin had migrated closer to his side of the door, probably to hear him better. "You're such a weird man, how can you even stand to hurt your pride like that?"

Arthur was shocked once more, and it took him all he had to remind himself that he was only doing this because everyone in the world, save for him, had given up on Franklin. Where did such a six year old even _learn_ to talk like that? Perhaps it was his father, seeing that he was the only one who could reprimand such a child in such a manner…using such words. "I am not working _as_ a woman, and it actually helps me hold my pride together, thank you very much." The Governess replied curtly, and was once again met with silence. "It is a job I chose to do because I enjoyed aiding children, and not because I wanted to be seen as a woman." He said with a frown. His statement was also true. Just because he was a homosexual, and a submissive one at that, didn't mean he was going to dress up in gowns and heels, piling on makeup. He was a MAN and he would always stay a MAN.

"I don't like you." Came the stubborn reply, and it was then that Arthur withheld a chuckle. He turned around and pressed his back against the door, sliding down onto the ground until he was sitting, cross legged, with his back against the door. It wasn't the most polite of actions, but he was tired, and there was no one around to make fun of his tight-apartment lifestyle and sitting habits.

"Oh, I don't doubt it." Arthur replied with a small smile, tilting his head back so that it too, rested on the wooden door. "In fact, most children who I govern hated me in the beginning." He added on, looking at the ceiling as he waited for the reply.

The silence was shorter this time as Franklin replied with a haughty tone. "You make it sound as if I'm going to like you later on in the future. Well that's too bad, because I'm not!"

"Mm," hummed Arthur, nodding thoughtfully. He wasn't going to say 'that's what they all said,' for fear of causing another argument. However, he picked the best words he could in order to keep the conversation going as smooth as possible. "You don't need to like me Franklin. In fact, you can hate me all you want. Don't most students hate their teachers?" he asked curiously, feigning innocence.

"Well…sometimes…" came the hesitant reply, muffled by its softness and the thickness of the door. There was a bit of shuffling, and suddenly the words were just as close to Arthur's ear. Franklin had sat down. "I hate all my teachers. The children in school are horrible too. They're all…gits." He said, and Arthur easily tell that Franklin was trying out the new swear word. However, reprimanding was for later.

"Then by no account should I help you start liking one." He said with a small shrug. "Continue hating them all if you please. I'm simply here to try and teach you in a better way than how your current teachers are doing it. We Governesses pride ourselves in knowing that we're better off teaching than these public people." He said, pride hinting at his voice.

Once more, did Franklin not answer until at least a minute or two had gone by. And even then, he didn't address the topic of teaching at all. Instead, he asked about Martin. "Since you are a Governess, you had governed…other children." Came the unsteady question. "How was…the other little boy?" He inquired, surprising the Briton by the topic of the question.

"Martin?" he blurted out, immediately feeling warmth in his chest as he thought about the sweet little boy and his charming family. "He was…" he started off, furrowing his brows as he tried to figure out how to explain him. "Martin was almost like you, when I first met him." He said quietly, and if his ears didn't betray him, he could've sworn that he had heard a small intake of breath coming from the other side of the door.

"Like me? Did he like to run around like me? Did he have a big garden to play hide and seek in? Did he get dirty a lot? How much like me was he?" came the frantic question, and by the sound of his voice, Franklin had turned his head in order to talk clearer into the door.

Unable to resist his laughter, he let out a short chuckle that eventually bloomed into a laugh. Due to his amusement, he hadn't noticed the flash of a blue tailcoat that appeared at the end of the corridor, only to hide itself again. The Viscount was able to fetch Percy, and servants were on their way to catch the birds. However, he didn't see Arthur at the servant's washroom, and he couldn't only suspect that he was at Franklin's room, since that was really the only other place that Arthur knew how to get to. Intending on fetching him, and scolding Franklin, he was surprised when he heard the bright laugh of the Governess, leaking from inside the corridor. He had immediately turned to hide himself back in the previous hallway, listening with keen ears and furrowed brows. Arthur's laugh was…genuine. In fact, Alfred had never even heard of Arthur's laugh before. And yet here it was sounding, with his son.

"Oh, my…Martin." Breathed the Governess, after he was done laughing. It was only after a couple of door bangs and the shouts of 'HEY! Answer me!' did he pull himself together. "Martin was indeed a _bad_ boy like you." He said with a snicker, and the teasing tone was evident in his voice as Franklin let out a small whine. "He loved to run around. In fact, one time, when I was chasing him, he held a frog in his hand, and we ended up collapsing on top of each other… needless to say, the frog got away." He said with a grin, and behind him, he could hear the small 'Aww…' of disappointment. "But he doesn't have a large garden. It's simply a large, open backyard. There's not that many places to hide in if we were to play that game…" he mused, thinking back to the Pinkerton's small but cozy estate. It accommodated the three of them wonderfully. "And yes, in fact, his mother reprimanded him almost all the time because whenever we came back inside the house after our afternoon recess, he was always found to have some sort of scuff marks somewhere on his clothes. There were stains, mud patches, by God, was he a dirty one." The Governess mused, and he closed his mouth when there no words to reply to his from the other side of the door.

"So…he got in trouble a lot? Martin? Did he ever turn into a good boy?" he asked curiously, and Arthur imagined him to be fiddling with his fingers, feeling awkward about the question. It was always hard, wondering whether or not boys were able to be turned 'good.'

Pursing his lips, the Briton laced his fingers and set them down on his lap, nodding. "Yes." He said quietly. "When I first came…Martin got into trouble a lot…I was with their family for quite some time." He said softly, smiling at the memories that flooded in his mind. "But once again, yes. Martin eventually turned into such a beautiful boy. He is actually quite the sweet child…charming and so fun to be around." He added on, murmuring. Behind him, there was silence, so Arthur went on. "And I know you are too, Franklin. I know you're a wonderful boy." He said with a gentle smile, his eyes still straight before him, roving over the wallpapered wall. Franklin didn't answer, yet there were no shuffling sounds to imply that he had gotten up. So Arthur merely sat there, the silence surrounding them.

It was then, that the Viscount decided to make known of his presence, stepping out into the corridor and walking forward. He had heard all that he had needed to, and he didn't doubt for once second that Arthur Kirkland would be able to help his son. In fact, he was positive that the man would. Only would a man with iron determination get the courage to find Franklin once more, simply to talk. And not only that, but Franklin had reacted almost wonderfully. There were no arguments to be heard. Watching as Arthur's head snapped up at his approach, the Governess scrambled to his feet, panic in his eyes. "Sir." He greeted, bowing quickly. "I apologize, for not going to wash up as you said." He said quickly, and they could both hear the small thump and shuffle of Franklin jumping away from the door, most likely to dive back into his bed.

"No, it's perfectly fine." Said the Viscount, smiling faintly. "In fact, judging by how I heard no yelling as I came over, I would assume that you and Franklin had struck some sort of mutual agreement." He said thoughtfully, glancing back at the doorway with a small smile.

"Ah…perhaps we have. Maybe." Arthur replied, looking back at the door as well. Indeed, the Governess had begun to think that even if Franklin vowed to hate him, at least this small conversation was enough to hold back any more mud in his face. "I will go wash up now, if I may." He said quietly, making another bow.

The Viscount returned his gaze back onto the smaller man before him, nodding. "Go ahead. The quarters are just down this hallway and down the stairs." He said, turning to allow the Governess his leave. "Also, once you finish, I would like for you to meet me in my office." He said, a tiny grin twitching at the corner of his lips. He simply watched as Arthur's large brows furrowed for a moment, before straightening back out into a look of respect.

"Of course, sir." He said then turned the corner.

* * *

Back in the office, the two men sat across from each other, much like how it was earlier this morning. Arthur sat, trying to look formal, in the seat across from the Viscount's desk, and Alfred himself was lounging casually in his larger chair. "I take it that you found it to be quite the…" he trailed off, his brows knitting as he tried to find the word that would properly describe Franklin and his pranks.

Arthur stepped in quickly, knowing what the man meant. "Yes." He answered, nodding. "He is…definitely quite the handful." He said with a soft chuckle, whereas the Viscount merely replied to it with a small thinning of his lips.

"Mhm. And…what do you think about the ordeal as a whole? That conversation you had with him…does it affect your decision any more than it had when you met him in the maze?" The Viscount asked curiously, pressing his fingers together, steeple-like, and pressing them before his mouth. In all honesty, not only did Arthur seem like a good governess, but he seemed like a curious man in general. His approach on situations like these were so far off from what Alfred or the servants had ever tried, and it forced him to try and imagine what else Arthur was capable of.

"Well…" started off Arthur, looking off to the side as he let his fingers wander to his chin and lips. "I think that this will be quite the learning experience for me." He said with a smile, watching as another smile emerged on Alfred's face as well. "It isn't that this is so different from other children I've governed…" he mused. " However, he definitely is different, then again, every child is." He said and as he spoke, he watched as the Viscount nodded. "But still, I believe this'll prove me as a good Governess, granted that I can break him in eventually." He said with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

Alfred stood up, his head never ceasing its bobbing as he clasped his hands behind his back and he started pacing around to stand by his windows, a thoughtful look on his face. "Perhaps he'll be able to get his act back together again by the time I find a woman." He said, turning his head to look back at the Briton.

The Governess himself tilted his head side to side, a nodding. "That's true. Though we cannot determine when exactly you will find yourself a wife, I can assure you that I'll try my best in order to turn him into a son you can be proud of, by the time she enters this home. "He said with a reassuring smile. It surprised him as well, for he felt that he had grown comfortable in the presence of the Viscount to speak his own opinion on the man's affairs, whereas lower status people like him were not supposed to. Instinctively, as if he were with a friend, he crossed his leg over the other, leaning back with crossed arms. He was thinking about his future work here in the house, and plans on what to teach the Viscount's child next. However, when Alfred turned back around to address him, the taller man was silenced as he stared at Arthur. No proper man should ever sit like that, and in fact, most proper women didn't bother to cross their legs. It was a feminine gesture, only found in deep in the city among the ladies, far from the nobles and their estates.

Without thinking, the Viscount pursed his lips and stared critically at Arthur. "Does your family raise you up to sit like a city slump woman?" he blurted out, before realizing what he said. But he didn't regret it, for it struck him curiosity. This Governess never ceased to surprise him.

"W-What?" stammered the Governess, thrown off by surprise at the sudden change of Alfred's question and tone. He looked around quickly before realizing how he sat, lounging about carelessly, and he immediately threw his leg down. "No, no I'm sorry, I didn't mean to seem so disrespectful." He blathered, his neck turning red once more for the umpteenth time today and his hands began to nervously fiddle with his shirt hem. "I must have not been thinking, finding myself too comfortable-

"No, I was merely wondering what upbring-"

"And I remember that you probably didn't even look me up-"

"Because I don't ever recall a man sitting like that-"

"And of course, I should have informed you right away, before-"

"Not that I am against it, of course, simply curious-"

"That I am a homosexual."

"….What?"

Blue eyes stared intensely into nervous green ones. One pair was filled with surprise and disbelief, the other filled with guilt and extreme anxiety.

_'Why didn't I tell him that!? It is only right that every family know exactly who I am before I am hired! God DAMN it all to hell, I'm never getting this job.'_ The Briton swore incessantly in his head, sweat starting to slick his hands as he swallowed, staring at Alfred's unresponsive face.

_'Homosexual? Arthur? No wonder he doesn't have a wife – not that he looks old enough to be marrying – but he is…Homosexual? As in, he as affection towards males? No WONDER he prefers the title Governess…' _were the Viscount's own thoughts as he swallowed himself, furrowing his brows and crossing his arms.

Both parties sat in complete silence. The Viscount was waiting for the Governess to fully explain himself, while the Governess was respectfully waiting for the Viscount to speak authority. Eventually, it was Alfred who broke the silence.

"You are…a homosexual." He said slowly, his brows knitting even tighter. Arthur swallowed, nodding just as slow. "You do realize…that your kind is not exactly welcomed in England." He added cautiously, and he watched as the Governess' face paled a bit more from the red that previously covered it. There were many questions in his mind now. Would it be good to hire a man that welcome didn't exactly like? Now that Alfred thought about it, this might even be Arthur's first high-noble job he had ever taken on since he was quite sure many of his other friends would disapprove of a homosexual on the spot. Arthur was probably lucky that England was slowly moving away from executing homosexuals. That was probably why he was still up and about, working.

"I do realize." Arthur said in the calmest voice he could, trying to hide the nervousness that threatened to spill from his voice. "However, my sexual orientation does nothing to affect, nor hinder my work." He assured him. "And before you ask, no, I do _not_ 'convert' my governed children into homosexuality." He blurted out, bitterness hinting at his voice. That was one of the main concerns among many families. That a man like him, spending hours on end with their children, would eventually turn them…gay.

A deeper frown flickered on the Viscount's face as the Governess said that, and he crossed his arms tightly. "I was not implying that whatsoever." He said, the frown even evident in his voice. "I was merely saying that you would do best not to hide that fact from clients in the future, Governess." He said, unable to hide the small bit of bitterness in his own voice. Arthur's face all but fell, for that was a clear sign that he was being released, not that he was employed in the first place. But the Viscount continued on. "I don't fear of you 'converting' my child whatsoever. And I trust that you keep that fact hidden away from most of my servants here as well, seeing as that even if I may accept you, they will probably not." He said, and he couldn't help but snicker as Arthur's face blew into a surprised, grateful smile.

"Sir-" he breathed, but was cut off.

"By now, your room should be all clean of the birds, and I pray that your first night here will be spent comfortably." He said to the Governess, who had already stood from his chair, thankfulness badly concealed in those ever-prideful eyes. "As you are aware," he began to explain. "I am not natively English. I am an American man." He told him, and Arthur nodded, for he knew. "In my home country, we aren't prone to being so prejudice to your kind. Of course, it's a bit distasteful, but we see no drastic problem." He said, and couldn't help but smile faintly, since Arthur's heated cheeks and grateful smile was contagious. "I just want you to do your work well, Arthur. And I trust that you will be able to."

The Governess nodded vehemently, bowing a bit as he kept his head low out of respect. "Yes sir. I assure you that I will do all I can to work to my fullest abilities. I highly doubt you'll ever regret hiring me, Viscount." He murmured, his eyes shining in anticipation as he looked down upon the rug.

"Good," Came the reply. "Then I bid you a good night, Arthur, and thank you for your duties."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Oh my god, finally, FINALLY I finished this chapter! Sorry it took so long~ I had the end of the year creeping up on me as well as …other stuff. But regardless, here is the long awaited Chapter Three!

**TL;DR**: Alfred and Arthur talk about Arthur's governing job, and Alfred says that if he can handle Franklin for the day, he gets the job. Arthur tries to find him, and ends up with a face full of mud, and a bedroom full of birds. Waiting to get that sorted out, he strikes a decently civil conversation with Franklin, before meeting up with Alfred and having a talk about getting the job…and Arthur's homosexuality!

Also, a little note that this chapter is DEDICATED TO:** RealSweetPhilippineMango** and her friend, because these two gave me the motivation to hurry my butt up and finish this chapter! Thank you two so much for your support, and I'm so glad you like it!

Many thanks as always to my wonderful beta: **of the Grigori** because you are a fantastic person! Muah!

To my reviewers – thank you all SO MUCH because your words and support make me (metaphorically) cry *^* I love you all so much~ Here are a few I'd like to respond to~

**[[ Caah-s: **YES! Yes, you have the right musical in mind. ;) thank you so much, and I'll make sure to do you and your musical-love proud! Of course, it won't follow the exact story line (since there's only one child, and who would want an exact copy?) but I assure you it'll be just as interesting.

**Poulukka:** oh dear, you made me reread your review for a couple days straight because you made me giddy and so happy that *squeals* I don't even know what to say anymore! I'm glad you love the setting, characters, and straight up everything! xD Thank you! Thank you so much for your words, and support and everything! Stay beautiful, love! **]]**

And a little selfish request of mine to end it off! Don't forget to **favorite **and **review** the story! I'd love if this got more attention when people search it up, so if you like the story, please do click! Thank you!

(man, I should really settle on a permanent pen name, shouldn't I?)

Glenn Agape, signing out!


	5. Chapter 4

**~Chapter 4: I Don't Understand The Concept Of Bonding~**

"Now then, seeing that this is the first lesson, this will be extensively used for the sake of learning how you learn things, and you learning how I teach things. Does that sound alright with you?" Asked the Governess, walking around the room that he and Franklin were given, which was to be their classroom.

The room was large and spacious; definitely more than Arthur had ever had before. It was probably just a bit larger than his room, and since there was no bed occupying a large amount of space, it seemed even bigger. There were a few tables set off to the sides – most likely for large project spaces or just more room to put books. But there were enough shelves and book cases that Arthur was sure he wouldn't have to use them all. He was governing a mere six year old. Not a university boy. Plus, the governing job wasn't purely on education. There was much to learn through society's ways and manners. However, the room itself had a pleasant charm, for it was painted a cream color, and the windows were placed just right, allowing for sunlight to filter in at all times, until the rays had gone to bed as well. The chalkboard that adorned one wall was large, and in a cabinet, there seemed to be an endless supply of chalk. _'How proactive…'_ mused the Governess, when he had taken a tour before the first lesson that morning. The room was more than satisfactory, he believed. _'I could most definitely get used to this.'_

Turning his head, he peered at Franklin to see what his reaction was towards his words. When the butler had dropped him off into the room, just a few minutes ago, the first thing he did was march to his desk, abruptly sit down, and cross his arms. Then he had stated a clear 'I still don't like you.' To the Governess' face, causing the Briton to raise his eyebrows and shrug, replying with his own 'I don't expect anything more.' Nevertheless, he was still quite curious to see what Franklin could come up this time with his words. "It sounds boring. What's the point of teaching if you're to be learning in this lesson as well?" came the shallow response, and Arthur nearly 'tsk'ed in disappointment. He was honestly quite hoping for something more sharp. Why? Because he knew that Franklin could've come up with better.

"But don't I have to know how you work?" he replied with ease, picking up a few books, and returning to the small table that Franklin was seated in. "Don't I need to know how you'd react if I did something like this?" He asked, before promptly dropping the small pile of books onto Franklin's desk. It was a range of advanced English literature books, as well as college-level German grammar exercises. But of course, all Franklin could see was a 'big pile of adult books'. "By the end of the day you are to have read these from front to back. And I'll quiz you tomorrow morning." He said with the tone he saved mainly for older students.

As if on cue, the young Viscount's son's eyes grew wider than Arthur had ever seen them go, and he gaped at the books, before hesitantly reaching for the top one, the grammar exercises, and begin to flip through it. Franklin's face contorted into one of utter horror, and Arthur could merely snicker behind a masked face. True, it was way out of line, and he was over-exaggerating it, but even then, this was truly a learning experience.

"I-I can't read this!" exclaimed the six year old child, holding the German book with trembling hands. And if Arthur's eyes didn't mistake him, he could see that Franklin's eyes began to tremble as well.

"You can't?" Replied the Governess, feigning ignorance and ease. "Why ever not? That is the assignment, so you are expected to do it." He said in a tone just as cold as previously. He watched as Franklin's head snapped up and he all but threw the book back onto the pile, shaking his head vigorously.

"I can't read it, I can't!" he continued to protest, wrapping his arms around himself, and seeming to shrink. He began to look even younger as his gold locks swished with his shaking head. "It's not even in English! Arthur I _can't_." he insisted once more, and then he grabbed for the next book, which was the literature. As he thumbed through it frantically, he realized that there were much bigger words in the English language that even he didn't know. "Please don't make me read this!" he begged, looking up with desperate eyes. "I don't know how to say this either!" he said.

Arthur, now unable to hold back anymore, broke the façade and reached down, gently prying the book from Franklin's hands. "Of course you're not going to read this." He said with a soft tone, taking the pile away from him, and returning it back onto his own desk. As he came back, he saw Franklin staring at him with confused, incredulous eyes.

"But-" the boy started, but Arthur was quick to cut him off with a raise of his palm.

"What do I look like, a monster?" He joked, then narrowed his eyes to silence Franklin who was about to open his mouth with another smart reply. "Anyway, as I said, this is a learning experience." He said, and he sighed at Franklin's still-blank face. Of course, the child wouldn't understand exactly. It really was a learning day for Arthur. He just apparently let Franklin in on his motives. "If I give you something hard like that, now I know that instead of getting mad and violent, which is what I believe you would have done, you nearly broke down and were about to cry." He said bluntly, and watched as Franklin's face took on an expression of self-defense. The child, being only so young, didn't understand anything else except for the fact that Arthur had seen him almost cry.

Standing up from his seat quickly, Franklin had his fists ready at his sides as he glared at his Governess with steady eyes. "I was NOT going to cry!" he yelled at him, before quickly being hushed as Arthur rose up both hands in defense.

"No, you weren't." The Governess calmly, watching as confusion flickered on Franklin's face once more. Mentally, he scolded himself. He didn't particularly like toying with his clients on the very first day, but in all honesty, Franklin was truly an entertaining child. The reactions and emotions that he could pull out from the six year old boy were enough to want to taunt him more. This, in its own, was a poor excuse, and made him seem like a cruel man. _'But ah well.'_ Mused Arthur as he watched Franklin splutter for words and sit down. "You weren't going to cry." He clarified, and Franklin merely crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair and huffing. "Anyway, that's the whole point of a learning experience. Now, before you say anything smart, let's move onto your actual lessons." He said curtly, turning to a different shelf that held smaller work books, obviously styled, designed, and meant for Franklin's aged-children.

"Am I able to read those…?" Asked Franklin hesitantly, as he saw Arthur pick up the books. He was immediately wary, unable to trust Arthur just yet, but also not particularly keen on starting any work. In fact, he didn't ever want to do work – ever. But that was a child's mind.

Laughing a bit, he nodded, placing three books down in front of Franklin, arranging them in a line. "Well. Not exactly, but you will be able to." He said with a small shrug. As Franklin looked down curiously at the books that were brightly colored and definitely interesting-looking, he spoke. "We're going to have you begin a new language so that once you are older you'll find it much more easy to communicate with people from other countries." He said, gesturing at the work books. "And no, you won't be learning all three of these at once. I'm merely giving you a choice of what you wish to study." He said, as he noted Franklin's look of disgust when he thought he had to work on all three different languages. Pointing at the books in order, he listed them off. "You have the choice of Italian, German, or French. Neither one is more important than the other, so whatever strikes your fancy is what we'll do." He said, taking a step back to begin looking though more books as Franklin made up his mind.

However, before he was even able to crack open the first teacher's guide, Franklin had already spoken up, pulling one of the books from the line, looking it over, and flipping through the pages. "This one." He said clearly, before holding it up for Arthur to see. "I want to learn this one…" he said quietly, looking up at his Governess with serious eyes.

Looking up in surprise at Franklin's quickness, he was thrust in even more shock when he looked at the flag that adorned the front cover of the book. It was blue, white and red. A frown quickly graced his lips as he immediately began to think back on everything that that had to do with the Jones family that was associated with this flag. The leaving of Charlotte, the scandal, the cause of Franklin's wildness… It all had to do with that flag. "French…?" inquired Arthur slowly, putting down his own book to walk back to Franklin's desk, taking the book from his hands and looking through it. Simple and basic exercises filled the page, vocabulary and grammar practice. He looked up again at the child, still with a curious expression. "Are you sure?" he asked. Arthur didn't even know if Franklin knew that his mother had run away with a Frenchman, but it was only natural that he was cautious.

"Yes, I'm sure." Said the boy, crossing his arms back on the desk. Arthur was a bit shocked, for the expression that Franklin had on was just the same as his father's whenever he was being truly serious.

"May I ask why you would like to learn French?" Arthur asked innocently, returning the book back to Franklin's hands, looking at his student with a recomposed face. If Franklin didn't know, then it wasn't his job to tell him. He was going to merely ask why French. If Franklin _did_ know, and was willing to tell him, then he was curious.

Apparently, Franklin did indeed know, for he looked up to Arthur with thinned lips. "I want to learn French so that if I ever meet the man that took my mom away, I can curse him in French." He said with ultimate seriousness, his eyes hardening to make it seem as if he were going to kill the man, rather than just say a few pretty words.

It took a few seconds for the words to actually register in Arthur's mind before he blinked a few times then burst out into laughter. Actually doubling over, he took a few stumbled steps back in order to grip the ledge of the chalkboard, holding him up as he laughed freely. Franklin looked immediately miffed, slamming a fist on his desk. "H-Hey! HEY, why are you laughing?!" He demanded in question, his face turning red as he looked at his Governess who was beside himself in tears. "OI! OI LISTEN to me! Why are you laughing? GOVERNESS! ARTHUR!" He yelled, pounding his hands on his desk, trying to get his instructor's attention. It was only after a few straight minutes of pure laughter did Arthur wipe his eyes away and look at the young child who truly was very endearing.

"Curse at him? You want to learn French only so that you can curse at a man you hate?" He couldn't help but say, mirth in his voice and amusement in his eyes.

Franklin, still looking highly miffed and pouty, nodded slowly, uncomfortable. "Y-yes…And I'll curse at him A LOT!" he said immediately after, as if thinking that simple cursing wasn't enough. "I'll learn EVERY swear word in the French language and say them all to his face! That's why I want to learn! And you said to choose, and I chose French, so you have to teach me French!" he commanded bossily, crossing his arms after his little speech. It truly took Arthur all he had not to burst out into laughter again. If Franklin wasn't a boy who was still too reckless, he would openly call him cute.

"Franklin, I believe you're missing the point." He said, trying to hide his smile. "The French I am to teach you…I'm not expected to teach you _any_ curse words." He said with a shake of his head. "Nothing obscene, and nothing as rude except for possible the sentence structure of 'you are fat' or 'you are not beautiful.' Other than that, it will literally just be learning a language. Grammar, vocab, sentence structure and things like that. If you want to learn curse words, I'm not going to be the one you're to learn it from." He said, able to take on his serious side again, looking down at Franklin.

At the information, Franklin looked crestfallen and he furrowed his brows and looked down, immediately rethinking his plan of attack. If Arthur wasn't going to teach him swear words, then he'd either get him to teach him, or ask someone else. Looking back up, he bit his lower lip and nodded. "Then I'll find someone else who will teach me." He said stubbornly.

"Good luck with that." He said with a single shrug of one shoulder. The Governess knew that if Franklin was truly dedicated to cursing out the man, then he would eventually learn the swears. However, as a six year old, it would most likely take a while until anyone in their right mind would teach him. He gathered up the two other books and returned them to the shelf, quietly thinking to himself. He was a bit surprised at first when he realized that he hadn't reprimanded Franklin for wanting to learn curse words. Of course, he was one to curse himself, but it was usually once he was very comfortable around the family – and if they let him. The Pinkertons were actually the only family that was okay with his habits. However, instead of scolding Franklin, he had merely told him what was going to happen. He didn't have anything to do with the Frenchman that stole Charlotte away. He had no association with the family at all, so he technically had no reason to hate any of their enemies, or like any of the Viscount's friends. However, Alfred and Franklin, despite their initial actions, had been quite nice and generous to him, making him feel accepted, even though their first meetings were all sorts of wacky. He felt bound to them by gratitude, and thought that anyone who had the nerve to even try and destroy this kind of family deserved his hostility as well.

"French it is!" he said, returning back. He placed more books on his desk. "This will be your arithmetic's book, your English literature, history, and sciences." He said, putting the four books in a small pile. Franklin looked upon it warily, sighing to himself and suddenly, he let out a small yelp as a hand smacked him lightly upside the head. "Don't sigh." said Arthur. "It's either this, or the regular school." He said, walking back to near the chalkboard. "And I can assure you that I am much better than any school or instructor there is in the world." He said with a dignified, conceited sniff, closing his eyes and posing like a posh noble. He was almost certain that Franklin's mouth dropped open as the child stared at him in shock, most likely wondering why on earth he got SUCH a weird man as his Governess, of all things. But before the boy could say a word, Arthur opened up one eye, looked at him, and winked, a smile appearing on his face. He broke the pose and chuckled, turning to face him, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Close your mouth; you'll catch flies." He mused, watching Franklin hurriedly snap his mouth shut.

The Viscount's son shifted in his seat just a bit, holding his arms around his chest as he looked at his Governess, studying him. "You are really weird…" he muttered under his breath, as to which Arthur immediately retorted with: 'Well, you and your American accent is even weirder. Ever thought about that?' Franklin's eyes blew wide at the man's response, and he bit the inside of his cheek. Sure, his father was snappy with him, and yes, people spoke to him as a child, but Arthur…well, the way Arthur spoke was much more different than any other way someone had ever spoken to him. Perhaps that was the way of the Governesses? Regardless, it kept a tight grip on Franklin's attention. "Y-Yeah? Well, my father always said that it was good to hold onto my…heritage or whatever…" mumbled the boy, keeping a keen eye on his Governess.

"Heritage or not, you are in England, where we have English accents." Said Arthur strictly. "Even your Father, who has lived in England for just a few years, whereas you have lived here your whole life, speaks with the accent. I don't doubt that he still naturally has an American accent, however…" he mumbled to himself. Looking at Franklin's stricken expression, he knew it was because the boy was figuring that he would be forced to speak like the English. "But regardless, by no means am I telling you to change." He said, to ease his mind, watching Franklin look at him in surprise.

"I can keep speaking American?" exclaimed Franklin, looking at him excitedly.

Holding up a finger, Arthur quickly corrected him. "You can continue to speak with an American _accent._" He clarified. "There is a difference between speaking 'American' and with an American 'accent.'" He said with a nod. "Americans speak the exact same language we do. English." He said, much to Franklin's amazement. He couldn't help but smile faintly at the boy's lack of knowledge. "Yes, they do. So there's not exactly a proper word for their language… Unless you really want to go by the difference of countries, then they speak 'American English.' Other than that, it's all the same." He told him.

By the way Franklin seemed to hang off of every single word Arthur said, the Governess wasn't surprised that he wasn't scribbling down notes, or nodding like a dazed pet. However, Franklin did seem like he was paying close attention. _'If this is the way he is in school classes, then why is he supposedly so bad at his subjects?' _the Governess thought warily, turning to the board. Seeing that they were already on the topic of English, Arthur figured that they might as well start off with this as their first topic. Pulling out a new piece of chalk, he wrote down 'American English' and 'British English' on the board, underlining them and dividing the board. The topic wasn't exactly on Franklin's curriculum, but it was education nonetheless. "Now…" he began. "Just because we speak English, doesn't always mean we use the same words." He began to write. "Instead of pavement, they use the term sidewalk…"

* * *

Outside, the morning air was sunny. The weather was warm, yet a small breeze accompanied it, allowing the term 'spring weather' to come into full play. The morning was still bright, and if felt close to perfect. Save for the fact that Arthur was drenched with cold water and his hair was peppered with small twigs and dirt that the water was quickly turning into mud. God help him when he would try and take it out later. Arthur shouldn't have thought that he gained Franklin's trust and friendship that easily. In fact, he couldn't fathom why he had let his guard down at all. This was torturous, really. But then again, it always was in the beginning.

It started with the simple announcement of 'It is now morning recess,' as he gathered Franklin's unused books to return them to the shelves. After learning the difference English/American words, they had immediately started on French. And to Arthur's delight, Franklin was quite eager to learn it, and was quick to understand. When the break had come upon them, the Viscount's son immediately jumped up, seeming very ready to disappear again into the large gardens behind their home. But before he could dart off, out of the door, Arthur made a move easily in front of him, still thumbing through the workbooks, yet expertly blocking his path. He didn't even look up when Franklin let out a whine.

"Recess, in which I will be supervising you the entire time." He said authoritatively, snapping the booklet close to see Franklin pull out a deep pout, crossing his arms.

"You just want to annoy me." The child huffed in irritation, coming up with excuses as to why Arthur _had_ to watch him. "You're not going to let me do anything!" he protested, his voice coming out in a whine.

The Governess merely looked at him with an exasperated expression, shaking his head. "No, I'm there to _supervise_ you. If you don't want me to, I won't even talk to you, unless you get yourself hurt or whatnot." He said, shaking his head and then shrugging. Franklin, appealing to that idea, nodded.

"Don't talk to me."

With a short nod, Arthur moved in order to open the door for them. "Very well."

So that's where they were now, out in the gardens on this bright perfect day. As soon as they stepped out, Franklin dashed off ahead, knowing the twists and turns of the paths like the back of his hand. He soon disappeared around a bend, and Arthur made a point to quickly follow after him, making sure he could still see the back of the boy's head and clothes, a bobbing mop of gold hair accompanied with a casual white button up. His pants were rolled up to his ankles once more, but his shoes stayed on as he ran. The Governess was tempted to yell out something, to make Franklin stay where he was, but he was a man of his word, and if Franklin didn't want to talk to him, or hear him talk, then Arthur would stay with his mouth shut.

He supposed that most people would wonder about his motives and the way he dealt with the children. Oh yes, Arthur was very fully aware of what the general gist of a Governess was supposed to be. Strict, but not extremely strict, unless you were that kind of person. You must have a firm hand. Never let the child go off on his own free will and choices, lest they turn down the wrong path and find themselves in trouble, dragging the Governess into it as well. Don't listen to them, if they are of young and early age, for any child that is wild with reckless abandon cannot think properly, nor make right choices. You have to make their choices for them, until it is ingrained in their head to choose right. That was the way of a Governess.

But to Arthur, it was completely and utterly wrong.

Sure, it worked with the children…and some Governess at the company went by those rules as if they were life rules, not just job expectancies. However, when Arthur had first started out, his first client could probably measure to be a terrible experience. None of the 'rules' worked, and it only seemed to make the boy even worse, revolting against him to the point that the family was considering firing him. Seeing that it was his first job, and he did NOT want to be fired…Arthur changed tactics, and quick.

Arthur was strict, yes, but on a scale from one to ten, ten being the strictest, he was probably closer to a two. Sure, he had his rules, and if they were to be enforced, he made sure that they were listened to. But he refused to be that kind of Governess who pulled out the ruler every time their child wrote a wrong letter, or misspelled, or added wrong, or did something that obviously did NOT deserve a hitting. His 'firm hand' was merely 'supportive words.' Then there was the 'free wills' concept, which Arthur didn't agree to at all. These children weren't possessed. They weren't mentally ill, nor were they freaks of nature. They had a say of their own, and a right to think what they wanted. They could think perfectly straight, properly, without any hindrance. Their only problem was that they weren't given enough attention at home, or they were mistreated. It wasn't some fatal disease…Which meant that whatever choice the child wanted, Arthur would guide them through it. He wasn't going to pick and choose for them, for how could they grow like that? Therefore, Arthur's way as a Governess was unique. Franklin had free reign over what he wanted to do. If he chose to learn French, then so be it. If he wanted to dirty his clothes, find a bucket and secretly drench Arthur from behind as he walked towards the closest bench…so be it. As long as Arthur was there to influence him, and tell him _nicely_ what was right and wrong, which was really all there was needed. And so far… Arthur had never failed.

"Arthur, are you freeeezing?" taunted the young child, looking at his Governess who had taken the liberty to sit down immediately after being doused with water. If Franklin was Martin, the scenario would've gone much like this:

_"OH YOU INSUFFERABLE CHILD, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THIS SHIRT COST? I'M NOT LIKE YOU RICH PEOPLE – DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! I SWEAR, NO! NO, DON'T YOU DARE, OR ELSE I'LL CALL FOR YOUR MUM YOU LITTLE TWAT!"_

But unfortunately, Franklin was not Martin. The Brit praised any deity in the sky that he had selective tolerance. Since they had a deal, that Arthur was not to speak unless Franklin was in trouble, the Governess simply kept him mouth shut, turning a page in the book that he had brought along, ignoring his client as best as possible. Plus, he was curious to see if Franklin would be one of those children who would break after a while. It was something worth testing.

Franklin, miffed that Arthur didn't reply to his question, grumbled and turned around, heading for the small bird pond that was nestled between the flower beds, just on the side of the pathway. He hadn't forgotten their deal. He was simply looking for more ways to irritate his Governess. "Arthuuuuur." He called out, flicking his finger in the water, washing the small fish that swam beneath the water swim away quickly. "If I fell into this water would you save me?" he asked with a grin, waiting for the answer that he knew would come sassily back. However, all that came in reply was the sound of another page turning. Turning quickly, he frowned deeply again and let out a quiet huff of frustration when he saw Arthur merely sitting there, reading. He scrambled over to him, still on all fours, and looked up underneath his book. Arthur quirked an eyebrow and merely glanced at the boy, before returning back to his reading. "Arthur!" he chided. "What are you reading?" he demanded in question, trying to get the Governess to reply, but said Governess did no such thing. "Is it a good book? It looks really long. Is it for a class? Are you in university? Wait, but you're working, you can't be in school. Arthur, did you go to university? Wait, have YOU ever had a Governess? Is that why you're working as one? Listen to me! Arthur, anssssswer MEEE!"

If Arthur wasn't a professional, he would've broken into more tears of laughter, just like in the classroom. Oh, it was more than obvious how desperate Franklin was growing for attention, and Arthur nearly broke his mask by smiling faintly near the end. Finally, at Franklin's final attempt, which included violently shaking Arthur's leg so hard that the book was shaken from his hands, he slowly bent down to pick it up, closing it, and turning to the child. "It's a novel." He said simply, watching Franklin's eyes snap open at the sound of his voice. Taking Franklin's arm gently, he pulled him up so that he could sit next to him on the bench. Without waiting for him to reply, he went on. "It's quite a good book, really. Perhaps you'd like to read it one day, when you're older. It has to do with pirates." He said with a faint smile, watching the boy's eyes fill with curious wonder. Of course, who wouldn't question? He was a working person…reading about pirates in his free time.

He went on, folding his hands in his lap. "It's not…long. Then again, it depends on what you take is 'long.' And no, it's not for a class, simply for my free time." He told him, and he snickered internally at all the expressions Franklin made. The Brit prided himself for his good memory, able to remember every single question that fell from the boy's lips. "Yes, I did go to university. It was in Wales, though, so I don't believe you'll know the place. I am natively English, however." He told him. "And as for the Governess-having…" he shook his head. "No. I am not from a rich family, and we lived in the city. We didn't have money to afford a Governess, and since I was the middle child, I merely looked up to my older siblings on how to act." Turning his head to smile down at Franklin, he gave him a small shrug. "But I do like this job very much. Even if it had nothing to do with me as a child."

"Oh wow…" muttered Franklin, looking down at his lap as he swung his legs back and forth. It was obvious that the child was interested in Arthur's words, but it was also displayed that Franklin didn't want to _show _his interest. So instead, he just nodded mutely and watched his legs kick back and forth. Eventually, he couldn't help but ask another question. "So…" he started off, blanching a bit and looking away when Arthur turned to him expectantly. "How was…living in the city…?" he muttered in question.

Arthur blinked at the question, and looked back down at his own hands as he started rubbing his fingers together absently. "Living in the city? Well. My family and I lived in a decently sized apartment, and we were well off for a middle-class family." He said with a nod, which was true. They didn't grovel for money, and his parents both had steady jobs. Arthur's childhood life was fine and sturdy. But of course, talking about finances would do nothing but bore a child, so he decided to venture in what he did for fun. "We didn't have a backyard like this one, so my three other siblings and I tended to play out in the streets." At that, he watched Franklin's head swivel back to him, brows furrowed in surprise.

"In the streets?" he repeated. "But…isn't that…dirty?" he mumbled, to which Arthur couldn't help but laugh loudly do, much to Franklin's discomfort.

"Dirty? You're telling me my childhood was dirty, when you're the one playing in the mud with no shoes, dumping water on me, and throwing sticks in my hair? Dear lord, child. If only I could call you a hypocrite, then I would. But I believe your father would fire me if I called a child that." He mused with a chuckle, shaking his head.

Franklin pouted, crossing his arms and tilting his head back, closing his eyes to look up at the sky with dignity. "You're just jealous that I have a big backyard to play in." the child huffed, causing the Governess to smile in amusement, leaning sideways a bit so that he could pinch one of Franklin's bloated cheeks. The child let out a yelp, causing Arthur to snicker again.

"I didn't want a large backyard to play in." he said with a shrug, watching Franklin rub his sensitive cheek with a pout. "The streets were fun. We met up with friends from other houses and apartments. If we had some pocket money, we could literally walk about the small shops and buy whatever we wanted. Sure, the streets were dirty and loud, but it was very fun. Sometimes, groups of children would get together in a small alley and just play ball. Or we'd all pile up in one store, gather our money together, and buy as much chocolate as we can, sharing it between us." Sitting up at the memories, he sighed and nodded, reminiscing a bit. "My lot of friends we're actually pretty fun. The younger you were, the bigger your piece of chocolate was." He said with a chuckle. "Which is supposed to be the other way around. But the older kids were quite generous, and loved to play with us whenever we had the chance. Mm, yes I miss those times. I believe most of them have grown up to be quite successful in their jobs." He mused.

At his side, Franklin was quiet as he listened to his Governess talk, enraptured by his words. Arthur's childhood was completely different from his own; he had _friends_, whereas Franklin had the occasionally prep boy that visited whenever their parents visited his father. And those boys were always so…proper. Their neck scarf-thingies looked so tight that Franklin was sure they were secretly choking, but were not allowed to say anything. He pitied them. But whenever he wanted to play, all they preferred was to sit in the parlor and mess around with a toy truck. Not in the backyard, where there were butterflies and small insects waiting to be discovered. "Was it fun…?" he asked cautiously, breaking Arthur's reminiscing. "Having a lot of friends?" he asked, and Arthur's head turned to peer at him.

"Well… Yes. It was very fun." He said, before looking at Franklin and his glum expression. Silently, he thanked the lord for children's inability to hide their emotions. "Do you have many friends?" he asked innocently, looking out at the little bird pond before them. "Anyone you like to play with, given the opportunity?"

"Yes!" Franklin shot out quickly, much too quickly, a deep frown gracing his lips as he looked firm in his answer. "I have a lot of friends!" he lied easily, and much to Arthur's amusement. "There's…there's Chester. He lives two estates away." He said quickly, trying to recall the last time Chester had come over. It had gone badly, for the redhead had an accent so wild and…Irish, that Franklin couldn't help but call him out on it in front of his parents. The darn boy had cried like a baby. "He's…he's really nice. But he's a crybaby." Was all Franklin could comment on. "And…and then there's William! William…he's…" The boy bit his lip, once more trying to recall anything about William. "He puked on my bedroom floor when I showed him my secret worm collection…" the boy had grumbled, accepting the fact that no, he did not have any friends.

Smiling faintly, Arthur continued to listen to the boy go on and on about the boys he had encountered and how none of it turned out well. Knowing that Franklin was desperate for social interaction, he sighed and reached out to ruffle his hair softly, and to his surprise, Franklin didn't pull away. Instead, he merely puffed his cheeks. "You have a secret worm collection?" he said in fascination. "I've always wanted to see one…" he mused, and just as expected, Franklin's head popped up immediately.

"My worm collection?" he voiced, eyes widening at the thought of someone wanting to see what he so adored. "You'd like to see it…?"

Arthur nodded, taking his hand away so that he could return it back to his own side, smiling at the boy who was so eager to share. "Yes I would, if you're willing to show it to me."

Like lightning, (which was indeed like lighting, taking in Franklin's blonde hair) the Viscount's son was up and on his feet, ready to run off once more in hopes to go on a long rant about the various types of worms he had tucked in away in a box of dirt. Of course, he didn't know the types of worms exactly, but he did know the difference of their lengths and by that, he was able to conjure up imaginations on who were stronger, and who were weaker. However, before he could even say 'Let's go!,' he backed up and stumbled into Percy, who had basically appeared right behind him. The butler's hands shot out in order to catch Franklin, preventing him from pushing the taller man over and letting them fall. Arthur himself let out a small cry of surprise, but silenced it when he saw that it was nothing. Standing up, he gave Percy a polite smile in greeting, disregarding Franklin who shoved himself away from the man's hold instantly.

"Percy." The Governess greeted, and the man gave a bob of his head in reply. "What can I help you with? This is Franklin's recess, so I believe I have the time." He told him, and couldn't help but notice to the side Franklin's pout and cross of his arms. No doubt the young boy was hoping to show _someone_ his worm collection.

Smiling a bit, Percy nodded. "Yes, the Viscount has requested to see you in his office, immediately." He said, causing the Governess' brows to furrow just a bit. The Viscount wanted to see him? Immediately? What did he do? It had only been the first few hours of Franklin's governing sessions. Truly he hadn't messed up _that_ badly, right? In fact, he was quite sure that he and the child had gotten along fabulously well. But realizing that he was keeping the butler waiting, he nodded quickly, picking up his book and tucking it under his arm.

"Of course," he said with a nod, before turning to Franklin and smiling a bit. "Go on and play, but if you so much as come back inside the house with even a speck of mud on you, I will _make_ you read those books I showed you earlier this morning." He threatened with a tone that said 'I'm not kidding you.' He saw Franklin's face blanched a bit, but all the boy did was stick out his tongue, blow him a dry raspberry, and sprint off down the path again. Turning back to Percy, he began to follow him down the path back towards the manor. Curiosity still prickled his thoughts and hesitantly, he eventually asked, "Do you know of the reason why the Viscount wishes to seek my presence?" he inquired.

The man barely moved his head, and kept walking with his strict posture and regal stature. "He would like to ask a few things about Franklin's curriculum." Was what he simply said. His tone of voice made it known that that was all he was going to tell the Governess. And to Arthur, that was really all fine. The viscount merely wanted to know what Franklin was going to be learning throughout his course of stay.

Percy had left him in favor of making dinner, letting Arthur find his way back to Alfred's office. Luckily, since it was one of the few rooms in the house that he knew of, he was able to find his way there fairly quickly, and from outside of the door, he could hear the faint words of a conversation being held. His brows furrowed. He was to speak to Alfred about Franklin…who could possibly be in the room? Leaning forward a bit more till his ear was pressed lightly against the wooden door he heard the Viscount's familiar voice, rich with his British accent, not a trace of American to be found. However, when he strained his ears just a bit more, he was able to hear a second voice, of a second man by him. They seemed to be in deep conversation with intense words. But the longer he listened, the wider his eyes grew. That was a _Spanish_ accent, and the only _Spanish_ person he knew who Alfred was associated with was a certain dense, irritating, persistent, idiotic, knight. It was that damn Antonio.

He didn't want to just interrupt a conversation between two men that were clearly higher up on the social status than he was…but Arthur was known to be an idiot sometimes. And, if he had a chance to annoy Antonio, then he would. It was ONLY because that during that one day of constant Antonio begging, he had learned that Antonio could get depressed. He would mope around with a large pout on his face, and he would drag himself around like a man who lost a soul. He could also be extremely happy. Something that honestly scared the heck out of the Governess, by how often and how _easily_ Antonio found it in himself to jump around and sing native Spanish songs.

However, never had he once saw Antonio angry, nor annoyed. This could be his chance!

Pushing the door open without a second thought, he stepped in and let the door close with a soft click behind him. In front of him was the Viscount, sitting at his desk with a frustrated expression. Was he irritated at Antonio, perhaps? And in front of him, was said Spaniard, with an equally frustrated expression on his face. Maybe they were having a row. Seeing Antonio's frustrated face, it was almost exactly what Arthur had hoped to accomplish with his entering without knocking. The only problem was that he wasn't the one that caused that expression. But it was still something, since Antonio with a frustrated expression truly didn't go well. His brows were knitted and that merely cast a sad look on his face. It troubled the Governess, and if they were by themselves, Arthur would've surely hit him and said begrudgingly, 'Smile, you git.'

But the Governess was being quite inconsiderate indeed. Too engrossed in his plan to irritate the knight, he had completely forgotten that even if Antonio would probably not have cared on his sudden entrance, _Alfred _certainly did. The conversation ceased almost immediately upon his arrival, and both heads swiveled over to look at him. Arthur noticed Antonio's smile first, for the moment the Spaniard's green eyes laid themselves on him, the frustrated expression vanished in an instant, replaced with a look of genuine excitement, carefully concealing a look of curiosity. Inwardly, Arthur blanched. Even to him, the man who had possibly made his life hell for one good day, Antonio still had the confidence to smile at him like a friend? Arthur nearly pitied him, although much of that pity was laced with guilt.

The next expression – the one that caused immediate fear in him – was the Viscount's. Alfred's light blue eyes were stormy, filled with numerous expressions that Arthur himself couldn't exactly pick out. Even though he was sitting, he might as well have been standing up in front of the Governess, looming over him like the tall man he was, for his eyes were searing deep holes into Arthur's own, making the native Briton nearly shudder on the spot. How STUPID was he, to not have knocked? This wasn't Antonio's home, this was Alfred's. And they were in the middle of an important seeming conversation, it seemed. Of course Alfred would've wanted someone to knock. Yet there was Arthur, who didn't knock. Unable to think of anything else to say, due to Alfred's strong stare and Antonio's happy one, he ended up muttering incoherently. But noticing Alfred's deeper frown at his indecipherable words, he sighed. "I am truly _deeply_ sorry at interrupting, sirs…" he mumbled quietly.

It was almost expected for Antonio to be the first one to react, letting out a short laugh and leaving the Viscount's desk, bounding over to sling an arm quickly around his shoulder. "Don't worry, amigo!" he exclaimed, much to Arthur's nerves and Alfred's pounding head. "It was nothing important, and plus, we were waiting for you to give your own input." He said with a grin. Arthur looked up at him quickly, confused just a bit at his words.

"O-Oh?" he mumbled in reply, unable to stop himself from noticing that Alfred's frown had deepened at the Spaniard's words. "Is that so? Well, then, I'll do all I can in order to help." He said sincerely.

"Of course you will," said Antonio with a wink, rubbing his knuckles in Arthur's hair – almost painfully – before releasing him. "And it'd be best if you could do it right now, to ease this man's stress." He mused, gesturing to the Viscount. At the mention of him, the Viscount let out a huff and stood up quickly, his palm flat on the desk.

Alfred's eyes grew even stormier if it was possible, and it made Arthur mentally cringe, as he kept on a passive front. He inwardly wondered if Antonio was feeling the same thing, or perhaps the knight knew him long enough not to feel affected. "Antonio." The Viscount said, his voice clear with the tone of absolute command. "Will you please refrain from speaking so easily about this?" he asked, though it sounded more like a command more than a question.

To the Governess' side, the Spanish knight merely dipped his head in a slight respect and let out a small hum to imply of his accordance.

Turning his attention back towards his employed Governess, he took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. "Hello Arthur. I am hoping that you and Franklin were able to have a few decent hours this morning?" he asked critically, skeptic eyes analyzing Arthur's every move and word. "I pray that his first few lessons went well." He added on, his tone implying that he didn't pray anything. This was all out of courtesy.

When Franklin's morning recess began, that was when Percy came in to collect Arthur's progress report, bringing it back to Alfred for a look over. It was now that Arthur desperately wished to know what the Viscount had seen as wrong. It was then and immediately that Arthur's short Governess life began to flash before his eyes, starting from this morning. What had he done wrong? There couldn't be anything he did wrong. In fact, Franklin was close to as perfect as he could be during the lessons despite his occasional retort and lash out. The insanely short little movie ended in his head and he worried his bottom lip for a moment, before nodding slowly, forcing his voice to stay as calm as possible. "Yes." He said cautiously, watching Alfred's expression not change in the slightest. "Yes, Franklin and I were able to get along quite well, actually. He works diligently when really instructed to, and is so far doing quite well in his subjects." He reported to him.

To Arthur's side, where Antonio was standing by with arms crossed, he heard a soft 'hmmm..' and noticed a nod of approval from the corner of his eye. He didn't look over though, for Alfred's movement to the front of his desk kept his eyes trained on him. "Is he? That sounds wonderful." He said, although the Viscount didn't sound quite appreciative at all. "However, I must ask. What is the meaning of choosing Franklin's language for study to be French?" he asked with an aura of coldness seeping into his voice. The tall blonde man had also reached behind him on the desk and had taken the familiar looking piece of paper, Franklin's first report, and reading it over. His bright blue eyes then flickered back up to Arthur. "Antonio said that perhaps you had a very good reason for this. I hope you do." He said with a deep set frown.

"Oh come on, Alfred." Exclaimed said Spaniard, taking another step forward from his spot next to Arthur. "Don't intimidate him like that, I'm sure he has a reason." He said and the Viscount quickly cut him off with a quick glare.

"Whether he has a reason or not, I don't understand why of all the languages, he would make my son learn _French._" The Viscount said curtly, crossing his arms. "He is perfectly aware, as well as the rest of god damn Britain, what the French has to do with our past. If word were to get out that my son was associating himself with the language of the country that tore our family apart, what do you think the rumors will turn into?!" he exclaimed in exasperation, all but throwing the sheet of paper back onto his desk, watching it float a bit and slide of the edge, falling onto the floor by his chair.

Antonio's face hardened as well, his lips threatening to twitch down into a frown. "Alfred you can't keep holding yourself to this for much longer. It was a French man. Yes. Fantastic. But do you think you have a reason, or a right, to hold this grudge against the entirety of the French country as a whole? It was a single man, not a mass country!" He argued back, much to the Viscount's distaste.

To the side of both men, Arthur was paling a bit. They were arguing over him. They were arguing over what Franklin was learning…and technically blaming it on him. But the Governess DID have a reason! He truly didn't force Franklin to take French, and was shocked himself when the boy had chosen the language. However, the two men were going at it with harsh words, making it nearly impossible for the Governess to put in his own words. He had to wait until it was Antonio's turn because even though he was stepping in for him, and defending his choices – bless him, - it would be a lot more socially appropriate to interrupt a knight rather than a Viscount. "Excuse me!" he blurted out, loudly enough that both men were forced to cease their bickering, and turning to look at him with frowning expressions. Arthur's face was a bit red out of indignation, not having a chance to say his reason. "Excuse me, but I believe that I would like to have a say in this." He said with a tone of authority, one that made Antonio nod quickly and metaphorically back down, while Alfred merely stiffened a bit more, but curtly nod.

"What do you have to say, Arthur?" the Viscount asked, curiosity as well as exasperation tinging his voice.

Arthur, tired of being looked down upon, crossed his arms in an act of defiance, 'closing himself off' from personal answers, as was what the action meant. "I had nothing to do with the choosing of Franklin's study language." He said clearly, watching from the corner of his eye as Antonio looked suddenly relieved. The Viscount; however, merely looked dumbfounded, as he stared at the Governess dubiously.

"I don't exactly understand," the taller blonde had started to say, but Arthur quickly cut him off, ignoring the surprised look on his employer's face.

"I didn't choose French for him, and no, the curriculum doesn't require him to take French. This morning, I had given him the choice of French, Italian, and German." He said, watching as the two men's expression started to evolve from skeptic, to curious. "Usually, most children would take time choosing a language. They would ask which one is the better one of the three. They would ask which is harder, which one is easier to learn, which ones do I like and prefer." He told them with a hard expression. "But for Franklin, it didn't even take him two minutes. He had already picked up the French book, and was showing it to me, stating that he wanted to learn French."

Arthur finished speaking and was allowing the information to sink into the Viscount's mind. Half of him was curious for his reaction, while another half of him was curious for his punishment. If Alfred was once of _those_ kinds of parents, then Arthur would be blamed no matter what. Finally, the Viscount all but exploded. He _panicked_, in fact. "He CHOSE French?!" Alfred exclaimed, a look of pure horror on his face. Arthur had never seen a man look so grief-stricken. "How on earth…why would he…" he rambled, starting to pace around the floor of his office. The Governess and the knight shared quick glance, mentally agreeing on something, anything, Arthur didn't even know, but he watched as Antonio walked forward to try and still his friend.

"Amigo, please-" he tried, but was cut off when the Viscount brushed him off quickly, turning to glare at Arthur.

"Are you POSITIVE that Franklin wanted to learn French? He wasn't kidding with you? He tend to do that you know, mess around with folks. Especially folks that he doesn't know. Arthur, are you listening to me?! Was he SURE in his decision to learn it? Hell, what even was his _reason_?!" he cried, anxious for the answers to his question, and unable to get them for his Governess was merely gaping at him with wide, green eyes.

Arthur was pretty positive that finding your employer extremely attractive was frowned down upon. However, when Alfred started ranting, his regal posture slipped away, his eyes lost that look of pure authority, and he was left looking like a regular man whose son got a bad grade on a test. However, it wasn't only that specific fact that caused the Governess to gawk. In fact, it was a thought that Arthur had pondered on many times during his still-short stay at the Jones' manor. For Alfred's tongue had slipped, and what came out of that mouth were words, coated in nothing. A pure American accent was heard, with not a hint of British. R's were pronounced so prominently, that they put the Antonio's mainly Spanish, a bit British accent to shame, and even the Viscount's vocabulary was picking up bits and pieces of his old tongue. It was so completely mesmerizing to listen to, granted that Arthur had never really heard an American speak, save for Franklin. But he was still a child. His professors at the University would demonstrate it to them, and even though they did very well, it was obvious that you could not speak in an American accent if you were not American. And yet here was a native American, who insisted to speak British. But once he got himself going, Alfred was just so…American.

Even his NAME sounded fantastic, even though it was a bit strange. If they were to change their spelling in order to follow how the Brit's speak, Arthur would've had his name changed to Ahthuh, despite how silly and ridiculous it looked. However, coming from Alfred's mouth, it sounded…right. It fit the letters, and did justice to the r's that were in his name. Arthur. Yes, that was him. Yes, no letter was neglected. It was a silly notion indeed, to have so much respect for letters. But that was how it was spelled, wasn't it? Arthur? It was so intriguing to the Governess that he started to wish that Alfred should never stop talking – to continue saying his name. But as soon as that thought flashed in his mind, he squished it down immediately, realizing that his face was burning too warmly. Hotly, actually. There was no doubt that he was flushed a deep, crimson red.

Alfred, still caring more to his questions rather than Arthur's face color, was shooting off question after question, trying to get him to answer, wondering why the Governess wasn't paying attention. Arthur flicked his eyes over to Antonio, wondering if he was feeling the same effect that he had. But to his surprise, the Spaniard was simply interesting in looking over his trouser waist band, for it appeared to have a small tear in it, the frayed area just barely becoming undone. Snapping his attention back to the Viscount – who was still _blathering_ – he bit the inside of his lip. So did Alfred do this to everyone? Let slip his American accent? Or perhaps he was just that close with Antonio and he had long since forgotten this small habit?

"I-I'm sorry sir." He said soon after that extensively long pause, much to Alfred's relief as he himself stopped talking. "Yes, I myself was surprised as well when he chose the language, but when I continued to ask him, it seemed that he was quite firm in his choice. He looked to be quite positive, Viscount." He told him warily, his fingers twitching at his sides, yearning to twist them in his shirt hem, as he forced his burning cheeks down.

"He's that positive then…?" Alfred said, a look of disgust threatening to appear on his face. But before that expression could completely take over and turn the Viscount's mouth down, Arthur jumped in once more.

"Yes. But his reason wasn't just one of simple play, sir." He assured him, watching as the disgust vanish, replaced by curiosity. To their side, Antonio had also stopped his studying in favor of listening in on the conversation again, granted he had stopped listening a while ago. "When I asked him what had given him the urge," Arthur began to say, starting to flush again at the memory. It wasn't embarrassing. But Franklin's reason truly was entertaining. "He said that he wanted to learn French so that if he ever met the man who stole his mother away, he would curse at him in his own language. "

There was silence in the room as the two other men digested this information. The Governess stood by awkwardly, shuffling his feet just a bit as he tried to find anything else to say. However, there simply were no more words.

Antonio was the first one to break the silence, bursting into laughter that caused both the Governess and the Viscount to start a bit, whipping their heads to him. "Oh Dios mio!" cried the Spaniard, laughing so hard that he actually put a hand to his stomach and another hand on the chair head to steady him. Slowly, with a slightly awkward expression, the Viscount began to chuckle along with him, a steady stream of 'heh heh heh…?' "Amigo, your son is JUST like you." The knight said with a grin, the look aimed at Alfred, who was merely looking at him warily. "You see? There is no reason to get angry over such a simply matter. Your son holds just the same resentment, and you should be happy." He chortled, his laughter dying down to a soft 'fusosososo.' He began ambling towards the door, an easy smile on his face. As he passed Arthur, he put both hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shake in front of Alfred, his grin widening. "So don't give Arthur here so much grief with false accusations. You'll only give him more stress to deal with." He snickered, before letting go and opening the door. "I'll take my leave now, for I have some matters to deal with at home." He said, as Arthur gave him a small wave. "Oh, and Alfred?" he asked, his body already out the door, but his head stayed in. The Viscount looked at him exasperatedly, letting out a breathy 'What?' to which Antonio winked. "You let your American show." He stated simply, before disappearing behind a now-closed door.

At that statement, Alfred's face turned a shocking shade of a faint pink, scaring the daylights out of Arthur that the Viscount could even WEAR such a color, before having it reduce back to his regular skin shade, a tan brown. His head quickly jerked back to Arthur, who was wearing quite the surprised expression. The taller man's eyes narrowed, his eyes silently voicing the words _'Do not speak of this.'_ Alfred opened his mouth soon after. "Sorry about that." He said, his fake British accent laying heavily on his words. "And also, I apologize for falsely accusing you. Antonio was right, Franklin is…very much like me…" he muttered softly, letting his fingers run through his gold locks.

Mesmerized by the action, the Governess just barely got himself back on track, quickly answering with: "No, it's perfectly fine. I understand your concern."

The Viscount merely returned it with a small smile. "As long as you are not teaching my son to run off with future women, then…I suppose I find it alright for him to learn…" he said, his words sharing both a teasing tone as well as a serious one.

"W-What?!" exclaimed the Governess, quickly shaking his head. "Of course not sir! That is ridiculous! You think that I, of all people, is a man to teach that kind of lifestyle to my children?" he snapped back with a frown. "If anything, he deserves to be taught that love is found, rather than forced and stolen. Your son is safe in my hands." He said with an indignant sniff, much to the Viscount's amusement.

"Is he now?" Alfred mused. "Safe, I meant." He quickly added to Arthur's confused expression. "If you are so certain that he is safe in your hands, then perhaps I will allow you to continue working here, as to prove yourself of that statement." He said with an easy smile. Much like Antonio's, but with a much more amused glint to it. He watched as Arthur's face looked quickly appalled.

"Are you meaning to say that you would have released me of his job just because I let your son learn the French language?!" the Governess cried in shock. Much like previous times, he felt all technical respect for Alfred vanish. He was quick to lash out, quick to provide back retorts that most nobles didn't wish to hear. "Excuse me, sir, but that is truly a ridiculous reason to fire someone." He said with a huff. "Plus, out of all the topics we had touched so far this morning, French is the only one that he works the most diligently in and it looks as if it will be his best subject. So despite your petty resentment to the entire French country as a whole, I believe you best start bracing yourself for French conversations to be heard within this house in the future!"

Once more, did Arthur realize his mistake and quickly clamp his mouth shut, and once more, did the Viscount simply stare at him in surprise and shock. Alfred was truly surprised whenever these moments happened. One moment, Arthur would be the perfect Governess. He'd speak with a stern voice and show his respect towards him when it was required. The next moment, Arthur would be red in the face and reprimanding him as if he was his own mother. Due to Alfred's position in the world, no one but people higher than him in status had eve snapped at him like that. And in fact, due to the fact that he was quite popular, rarely did anyone ever do it. So with Arthur here right now who had no shame in pointing out his wrongs, it intrigued him to the fullest, and the Viscount found himself trying to tease him with every chance that he was given. "Well, maybe I should contain you two in a room then, if you are to have conversations in French in this household." He said, feigning a testy reaction, trying to see what else he could pull out from Arthur. The Governess had once more acted like some sort of clam, opening his mouth, before quickly shutting it again. It was almost quite endearing along with his red cheeks, neck, ears…everything.

"Contain us?!" blurted out the Governess once more, the clam 'opening.' "In order to properly teach a person a language, they must be able to use and apply that language in everyday life. Yes, it is true that I can always ask him where the bathroom is, and have him answer me exactly in the classroom, but what if he were out on the streets? Perhaps he wasn't paying attention, and I wanted to test him exactly on his ability to speak without thought. What if even a French person were to talk to him? Alfred, you really can't expect him to learn properly like that." Arthur replied with, looking at him with a cross expression. To Alfred, he may have…just _maybe_, looked a bit like Charlotte did when she grew irritated that he let Franklin skip dinner to play in his room.

"So you are implying that you are thinking of letting him converse to French people?" was all that the Viscount replied with, his face as blank as a paper. However, his mind was racing. Arthur had said his name for the first time. There was no Sir, no Viscount…and definitely not git, dolt, or prat. The Viscount was surprised, very surprised. And with only a simple sentence, depending on that sentence, he could have Arthur ranting on and on and on…what an interesting concept. He had never met a man that liked to talk so much…and not conversationally. Indeed, none of these words would come out in a normal conversation.

Almost immediately did Arthur reply to with no pause in between their exchanges. "Of _course_ I am going to." He said with a frown. "I'm sorry, but if you're going to start having an issue with Franklin involving himself with French people, then you're going to have to learn to accept that fact. Plus, if you even bothered to think about it, your son resents the French almost as much as you do. I, of course, have no say in between, so in favor of your family, your son won't be running off with some French lady in the future." He said with a tone of complete sureness.

"I don't doubt you, I never said I did." Protested the Viscount with a snort, crossing his arms as he shifted his weight. The conversation was started to make him feel uncomfortable. No, Arthur didn't have to deal with his loss, so the Governess felt more at ease talking about it. However, Alfred did not. All this talk of running off and French people made his insides feel queasy, and before Arthur could go on another rant about him doubting his 'Governing abilities', he shot out a question, steering the conversation sharply. "How do you like your accommodations?" he inquired quickly, watching as Arthur's mouth paused, open, and closed quickly again.

"My accommodations?" repeated the Governess, blinking, and at loss of the sudden turn of conversation. First, he was talking about teaching Franklin French, and now they were talking about…his room?

With a nod, Alfred crossed his arms and leaned against the front of his desk, crossing his foot over the other in the process, letting him look extremely relaxed. Even his expression was one of pure ease, complete with a small smile of courtesy. "Yes. Your room. Your classroom. Are things satisfactory? Do you have any complaints?" he asked, a small flicker of worry in his eyes. Maybe he really was concerned if Arthur was content or not. He _did_ force him out of his last job after all. Perhaps the Governess was treated to even better over there.

Arthur almost wanted to laugh. Everything was perfect, and he had never been pampered to so much before. Having a butler around the house was more than enough. It wasn't that he didn't like the Pinkertons and their lack of butler. Also, he did try and relieve Percy of his job as much as possible and do things on his own, but he had to admit that everything was definitely a lot easier. With a small, grateful smile, he nodded earnestly. "Everything is fantastic, no need to worry about complaints." He assured the Viscount, and Alfred merely nodded in return. "The room is large and fits me and my needs more than necessary. Same goes for the classroom. However, I am both quite content with their size…so don't think about changing any of that." He said with a small snicker, chiding the nobleman with a grin.

"Changing…" blinked the Viscount, his brows going up in surprise at Arthur's ability to make a small teasing joke at the topic of…rooms. He returned it with a short laugh of his own, nodding and waving his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, you may have whatever. If you wish the rooms to be enlarged, then I'll see to it." He shot back with a grin, surprising the Governess with a wink. But to his own surprise, he saw Arthur's face flood a shade of pink at the action. It was also quite obvious that the man was fighting down the color change to red. The Viscount merely stared. Could men really turn that color?

"Don't even bother, I said it was satisfactory!" snapped back the Governess testily, realizing that the Viscount was indeed staring at his red cheeks. _'DAMN my urges!'_ he all but wailed inside his head, and was distracted once more by a cough.

"I'm aware, I was simply teasing." replied Alfred, much to Arthur's distress, for that only made his blush worsen. Due to their inexperience, Arthur grew horrified to feel himself start to feel hot at the words, and Alfred looked extremely uncomfortable himself. Straight men don't tease homosexual men. "I'm sorry, if I offend?" he offered as an apology, and Arthur merely snorted. What was he offending? Nothing. Plus, nothing he even said was close to offensive.

However, in the awkward silence that ensued after the attempted apology, a knock came at the door, causing the Viscount's head to snap sharply to it, and Arthur also turned around as well. With a short command from Alfred, Percy opened the door and stepped in, giving both men a short bow. He then turned his attention back to the Governess. " Hello sirs. Sorry to intrude and interrupt, but I'd like to inform you that it is now a ten minutes past Franklin's morning recess and he is currently sitting in his classroom…er, _impatiently_ waiting…" the older man murmured, a small smile on his face. Arthur, believing that the butler was amused to Franklin's impatient actions, merely chuckled under his breath and nodded.

"I'll make my way down, then." He said, turning to Alfred to say his goodbyes. But to his surprise, the Viscount was staring at Percy with a look of extreme surprise.

"Er, Percy." Said the Viscount, straightening up off of his desk and letting his gaze flicker back and forth from his butler to his Governess, a look of confusion on his face. "Where is Franklin, again?" he inquired, a wary look on his face.

The Governess quirked an eyebrow. Please, was the Viscount really that dense? "Didn't you hear him?" he said smartly, a frown on his face. "He's waiting in the classroom. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go see to his next lessons. I can't believe I'm late to the first day… the student already waiting on me…a child, no less!" he mumbled the last few sentences quietly to himself, but they didn't go by unnoticed by the other two men in the room.

"That's the point…" Alfred mumbled, turning his gaze to stare at Arthur a bit more intensely. "Franklin never waits." He concluded, and his mouth quirked down to a frown. His son was notorious for disappearing. If he didn't want to be there, Franklin would be impossible to find. Before, the Viscount's son was decently okay with waiting. Once Charlotte left, it had turned awful. He was never there when Alfred wanted him, and if he was even asked to wait for a simple minute, he would find something to distract himself with, if not running away from the room completely. And now, not only had Franklin waited for TEN whole minutes, but he was waiting for _lessons._ Lessons, given by Arthur. Supposedly boring school lessons, supplied by this new Governess. What was Arthur's secret? "But of course, go on ahead. There is no point in leaving him waiting." He said with a small smile, and watched as the Governess merely nodded, then dashed out of the room.

As Arthur rushed down the hall, he forced himself to start thinking about the upcoming lessons and _not_ the Viscount's face whenever he supplied him with a small smile or a short laugh. They seemed like genuine moments, as if the man never laughed or smiled openly enough. Inwardly, Arthur vowed to try and change that.

He all but skidded to a stop in front of the classroom door, narrowly avoiding a staff maid who had an armful of laundry and sheets. Muttering a quick apology, he opened the door and stepped in, shutting it behind him. Striding inside the room, he was greeted with the annoyed face of Franklin, sprawled across one of the long project tables, coloring on a blank sheet of paper with crayons that he had managed to find somewhere. Arthur didn't even know. Franklin's head popped up at his entrance and when he caught sight of his Governess, he dropped the crayon in favor of sitting up with a deep pout. "Where WEEERREEE you?" he wailed, jumping off the desk and sliding into his desk, throwing his arms over it and dropping his chin to rest on them. "I was bored and waiting." He huffed, much to Arthur's amusement.

"I'm quite sorry about that, really. I was simply spending time with your father." He said hurriedly, busy with picking up books and papers that were needed for the lesson. He had forgotten that that phrase was really only meant for courtships, and when he looked up to see Franklin's disgusted expression he could only utter a lost 'What..?'

"Nothing." Muttered the boy as quickly as he could, watching his Governess' face bloom with even more confusion. Well. That was…weird. The thought of his Governess trying to court his father was far-fetched. Something that Franklin couldn't even fathom. But…inwardly he knew that they were both men, and even if his Governess tried something, he could never replace his mom. Ever. "It's nothing." He said again, with a tiny smile.

Arthur stared at him a bit more, before shrugging and nodding, dropping the science work books on his desk. "Alright then, we'll be starting with animals. What's your favorite animal…?"

* * *

The lessons went on normally, and Franklin worked diligently. It didn't surprise Arthur in the slightest, since he had immediately sense a vibe of hard-working when he had met him. Of course, how could you _not_ be hard-working if you knew how to make a sheet rope and climb out of the window safely? While Arthur was content with Franklin's schooling progress, the Viscount was the one who was extremely surprised. Wary, even. That evening when Arthur took it to bring Franklin's progress report to Alfred himself, he was graced with a shout of surprise when he gave the Viscount the rundown of how well he worked. It was truly amusing to see Alfred pore over the paper, trying to find even the slightest of mistakes in his son. Yes, there were still the occasional talk backs, but Arthur hadn't bothered writing those down because he knew that with Franklin, it was almost natural. And although there were no hard pranks this day, the Governess merely believed that Franklin's sarcastic in-class retorts were what made up for their loss.

"So…in general…he is doing well, correct?" asked the nobleman after he had gotten over the fact that his son was NOT a terror in the classroom. Or at least to Arthur.

Said Governess nodded with a small shrug after that. "Yes. He works well. We work well. He listens. Of course, he's a child so he is not _perfect_, but so far, he is quite a good student." He told him, and watched as the Viscount slowly nodded.

"Alright…" Alfred replied then stood up, setting the progress report down with the one that he had received that morning. "Thank you. You'll be able to cut them down to one report a day now, if you'd like." He said, and Arthur nodded his head, for that would be much easier. As the Viscount started heading towards the door, the Governess nodded and followed in suit, a question that had he had tried to bury, resurfacing in his head.

"Sir," he said, watching as Alfred's head turned to the side as he opened the door for the two of them to file out. "If you are not busy tomorrow…perhaps we could share a lunch?" he suggested, using all his will power to hold back a certain preposterous blush. The Viscount looked surprised at the suggestion, and before he could say anything – Arthur simply _knew_ that the man was thinking of him and his homosexuality again – Arthur jumped right back in. "To talk over a few more things that I will be doing with Franklin that is included in his curriculum. Places for educational field trips…certain books that I'll want him to purchase….those things." He said quickly in addition, watching as the man's expression dulled down to one of understanding. Never would he admit to a living soul that he merely wanted to have a lunch with the Viscount.

Alfred, ever the fake-romantic, blinked a bit and let out a small 'hmmm…' carefully avoiding the Governess' badly-concealed expression of anticipation. "I'm sorry," he started, watching as Arthur's face immediately took on a fake, passive expression. "I am planning on having afternoon tea with Lady Odette…" he said slowly, giving the other his most apologetic expression. He wasn't exactly sure _why_, but he knew that he felt very bad for being unable to grant his new friend (was Arthur considered a friend?) this small meeting. "But I believe that the day after that, I have free." He amended quickly, but it was in vain. Arthur was simply chuckling and waving his hand.

"It's perfectly fine, sir. I had no meaning of pulling you away from your duties. Please, don't concern yourself over the request, for I was merely wondering." He said, and with a short nod, he turned to head the opposite of where Alfred was initially headed, towards his room.

The Viscount was left standing there, at loss of the entire situation. Everything had happened a bit too quickly, and he was left with some awkward thoughts. Perhaps he truly should eventually have a lunch date with Arthur one day. Not tomorrow, of course. He had heard that the Lady Odette was truly a fantastic woman, and after meeting her during one of the balls, he was eager to be meeting her once more. Turning to head down towards his room, he pushed aside the thoughts of the simple Governess, and began to plan what he should bring as a courtesy-greeting gift.

* * *

**Author's notes:** Oohhhh my god, well here it is! Sorry for it being late, I was…distracted. But nevertheless, here is the long awaited…CHAPTER FOUR! Well. I truly didn't think I'd end it like that…but ah well. Poor Artie. Denied a simple lunch date.

**TL;DR: **(too any of those who don't even know what that means, it stands for 'Too long; didn't read') It's Franklin's first day of lessons! With Arthur, he ends up choosing to study French, and surprises his Governess with his reasons! They have a bit of bonding time in the backyard, when Alfred wants to see Arthur pronto. Turns out, he's wondering why the hell Arthur made Franklin choose French. Turns out, Franklin chose it for himself, shocking Alfred. Theeeeen Arthur gets denied a date.

God, thank you so much for the faves/follows/reviews :D they make me feel really happy and appreciated! And as long as you people like this story, then I'll do my ultimate best to keep it going! Man, there's already so much things I'm formulating in my head for the future…

To my beta, **of the Grigori**, love ya tons, always!

BUT also, if there are any grammar/spelling mistakes, don't hesitate to tell. Me and Beta are still humans, after all xD

**[[** **carbo21:** uhh…. I… actually don't know what those are? How's your Father! And Slap and tickle? I am not… *tilts her head* elaborate? If they're good, I can put them in. Depends. What they are.. xD

**Sora Resi: **oh trust me, so would i~

**RealSweetPhilippineMango: **I'm glad you liked it xD and oh gosh, and unhealthy obsession. If I had a penny for how many of those I had…I'd be a rich mofo.

**Poulukka:** stop stop oh my god can I just keep you? For real, I love you so much xD You, my dear, are fantastic. And I am SORRY it took so long for this one to update! But I made it longer, is that okay? :D Well, regardless, stay beautiful, because you are, and I just love what you sayyy~ but don't stay up too late! Sleep is important.

**A pirates life for Bunny: ** mmmmM~! Nope not Mary Poppins ;) you're close though, you're getting the concept. And yes thank you so much! Arthur would like to thank you for appreciating him too xD

**Raindownpour:** jeeeeezzzus you are fantastic. Thank you thank you xD I'm so glad you were able to review~ it makes me happy! And yes, I try hard to mix in the era and the characters, at the same time making sure their little quirks and personalities stay intact!**]]**

**Faves/Reviews make a very happy author! Flames accepted too~**

As you can see, I love you all. And I want to keep you all. Here, get in my closet, I'll keep you allllll because I love you.

No for real.

Glenn Agape~


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